Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. I do, however, own Marlowe and any other OCs that appear in the 2 Sons Universe.
A/N: Surprise! After receiving a stunning number of reviews for the last chapter (totaling nearly 4,000 words), I decided that a special reward was in order. This chapter is a whopping 10,000+ words and is seriously intense. I was going to hold off on posting it until Monday, but I think you guys really deserve a weekend treat!
Now don't make me regret it! :)
Friday, June 4, 2010
The sun was bright in the sky when the top tier officers of the Sons of Anarchy and the Mayans Motorcycle Club pulled into an abandoned gas station outside Lodi for their meet with Galindo Cartel representatives. Flanked by his VP and SAA, Jax Teller was standing, his arms crossed over his chest, with Marcus Alvarez and his lieutenants, listening with skepticism to the Cartel's Strategic Forces Specialist.
Romero "Romeo" Parada had a quiet, yet powerful presence about him. In his early 60's, the former Mexican Special Forces commander had been approached after retirement by José Galindo himself, who offered him a great deal of money to put his special services skills to use in his organization. Exploiting his connections within the Army, Romeo had hired many ex-military commandos, building up an impressive semi-militarized organization for Galindo in order to protect the Cartel's interests in Mexico and to assist in Galindo's quest to take over rival Lobos Sonora's territory. With his right-hand man Luis Torres, a former soldier under Romeo's command, he was determined to earn the huge amount of money he was being paid by the Cartel to acquire all of its objectives.
But with the delivery of a bag of heads to the front door of Charming's one and only outlaw MC, Romeo was being pressed to make good on his promises for a problem-free association between the Sons, the Mayans and the Cartel.
Romeo took a good hard look at the newly-appointed President of the Sons. Having brokered the deal with Clay Morrow, it had been something of an alarming surprise to Romeo that the players had been switched so early in their association with the Club. He had to admit that the young man seemed capable enough with two successful runs under his belt in the last month. Present circumstances, however, would serve to prove just how good the younger man was. It was imperative for Romeo to know whether or not Teller had what it took as a leader to weather the shit that was now coming his way. If he didn't, it could put their association at risk.
And that was the one thing Romeo would not accept.
"I know it's been less than twenty-four hours, Romeo," Jax started quietly, "but have you been able to find anything out?"
"We need to know what's happening, ese," Marcus said as he puffed on a Cuban cigar. "I got three dead patches and a missing truck. I thought you said the Lobos wouldn't operate this far North."
"I may have been wrong about that shit," Romeo admitted in a raspy voice. "We're getting word that the Lobos are trying to bring the fight up here. Apparently, they've learned about our new business arrangement and are trying to cause problems between us."
"Seems like mission accomplished," Jax replied, his anger evident. "The Lobos murdered SAMTAZ's President, showing that they've got the reach to hurt us. They stormed our garage and shot our Clubhouse to hell, putting us on the Sanwa Sheriff's fuckin' radar. I can't let this shit go unanswered."
"Neither can I, Romeo," Alvarez agreed. "It has to be stopped before any more of my people get hurt and our relationship with the Cartel is exposed to local law enforcement. I got the local cops on my payroll, but if the Lobos brings the fight to Oak-Town and this shit escalates, we're all at risk."
"Not to mention the fact that we have the little matter of the Irish," Jax continued. "You pushed for this meet despite my belief that we should wait at least another month. Two successful runs wasn't enough for the Kings to feel confident about extending the privilege to the Cartel of buying from their stock of higher caliber merch. We had a hard time convincing them to send down the sample hardware for you to check out. The Irish have concerns. They want to make money, but they sure as shit don't want the noise associated with the Cartel. This attack is not going to help your situation."
"Look, I'm sorry about your man, and yours too," Romeo said nodding to Alvarez, "but shit like this is the cost of doing the business we do. As for the Irish, I am sure when we meet, we'll be able to smooth shit over."
Jax shrugged his shoulders. "This may be a business to you, but I have a duty to protect my brothers. You're ex-military, jefe, so I think you can understand that, right? I can't just let this shit go." While his tone was respectful, it was clearly evident to Romeo that the SAMCRO President would not be easily appeased, or manipulated.
"Then you should be happy to know that we have some Intel, and it looks like its legit," the former Commander replied. "Tell them, Luis."
Romeo's second-in-command took up the ball. "I interrogated the POS you were able to nab during the attack. It seems that the Lobos are setting up shop in Northern Cali, in Chico to be specific."
"Chico?" Happy said as he eyed his President, noting Jax's concern before he continued speaking. "That's a little too close for comfort. Are you sure the Lobos are operating out of that area?" He watched as Luis grinned sardonically.
"I used sodium pentothal on their soldier. He held nothing back. We're still working to get additional confirmation through our contacts in the area, but it makes sense," Luis replied. "The Lobos like to keep out of the way. Staying undercover in populated towns and cities is not how they operate. They like a lower profile and use guerilla warfare tactics." Pulling out a map of California, Luis spread it out on the hood of their SUV and, as the men crowded around, pointed to some highlighted areas on the map.
"Chico sits on the Sacramento Valley floor, not too far away from the foothills of Cascades here," Luis pointed. "We believe that this is where their base is. The mountain ranges and forestry is familiar territory for them and provides good cover. Close enough to civilization to secure food rations and supplies, but far enough that the locals don't even know they're there. Now, getting in won't be easy, but it'll be worth it. Wiping out that nest will send a huge message to the Lobos to stay the fuck out of NorCal."
"I assume you want to take part in the retaliation?" Romeo asked, already knowing the answer.
"Most definitely," Jax replied and Alvarez nodded his agreement.
"Then you're in," Romeo promised.
"Good," Luis agreed. "We have more men coming, but we will need as many as possible. We don't have exact numbers as to how many Lobos we'll be dealing with, so the more manpower, the better," the former soldier grinned. "With Chico at least a couple hours away from your turf in Oakland and an hour from Charming, if shit gets loud, it won't back-track to you. The Mayans and the Sons will be the last on the long list of usual suspects when we blow shit up out there. We clean this up and get back to business," he concluded.
"Which is why we are all here," Romeo smiled. "That's why we need to get this meeting on board with the Irish sooner rather than later. We need the new firepower to bring this fight to the Lobos' front yard, keeping them out of Galindo territory. We get it, and the Lobos will be too busy trying to stay alive and protecting their own than to try and roust the Mayans and Sons again."
"I hope you're right, Romeo," Jax stated with a shake of his head. "I need to be able to go back to my Club and tell them that we will get payback for what they did to my Tucson Pres and our Clubhouse, putting this shit to rest for all of us. But what happened yesterday didn't happen in a vacuum. The Irish are gonna hear about it from their stateside contacts. We need to handle retaliation under the radar or they won't open their arsenal up to the Cartel in spite of the big bag of cash your organization is offering in return. The Irish hate messy."
"Then we won't give them messy. Shit will get handled real quiet-like and put to bed," Romeo said forcefully as he turned to get into the driver's seat of his truck. "We'll have confirmation on the location in the next day or two. Keep your people on high alert and ready to go."
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Marlowe knew she had years of extensive training and the experience of serving three tours to thank for the fact that she wasn't, at this moment, shitting herself. Lo and behold, she was currently guiding her car behind two cargo vans filled with Sons in plainclothes as they made their way into what would certainly be enemy territory.
Cutting her eyes to the left, Marlowe watched the impassive stare of her brother as he sat in the passenger seat, sans his beloved kutte, unable to tell if he was pissed at her or not.
If he is, he needs to get over that shit.
Getting caught by Happy red-handed with her hand in the cookie jar—the latest cookie jar being a hot clinch with the SAMCRO President—had not been one of her more stellar moments. In fact, it had felt too much like history repeating itself. Marlowe's grip tightened on the steering wheel as she remembered the time Happy had shown up in Bakersfield unannounced—as usual—and walked in on her and the pretty blond boy she had brought home after school when she knew Tía would be at work.
Unfortunately, fifteen year old Marlowe had been so heavily engrossed in making out as she let Brandon Westmore get to second base that she hadn't heard the front door open. Suddenly, her hands were no longer fisted in thick curly hair as Brandon, barely 18, was plucked out of her arms and thrown head first out the fuckin' door. Never one to embarrass easily, Marlowe had been more pissed by the intrusion than anything and the explosive argument between her and Happy could be heard all the way down the block. Needless to say, Marlowe never got to see the pretty boy again.
What made this particular situation worse, however, was the fact that Marlowe had as good as told Happy that she had made the decision to stay away from Jax. He had an old lady and a son and that wasn't her thing, blah, blah, blah. Long story short, after getting busted thoroughly enjoying the Pres' "tongue lashing", she knew she was fuckin' weak and pathetic. Worse yet, Happy had to be the one to witness her succumbing to her weakness and that really burned her ass. Even more humiliating, instead of ripping her a new one after Jax had left her alone to deal with his SAA, the asshole had actually shown some concern for her and her reputation.
"I thought you said that shit happening between you and Jax was off the table, Marley."
Marlowe ran her hand through her hair, making it wilder still after Jax had thoroughly disheveled it. "I know what I said, Hap. I don't need you riding my ass. It takes two you know—"
"I know, and I will handle the Pres later," Happy said in a growl.
"Oh, no you won't," she said irritably. "What are you gonna do, meathead? Challenge him to a duel to defend my honor or just ask him to step into the ring with you?"
The ring part's actually not a bad idea, Happy thought but didn't say aloud. "What I say to Jax doesn't concern you," he started but Marlowe interrupted.
"Excuse me, it was my throat he was massaging with his tongue, so I think it has everything to do with me and nothing to do with you."
It was her brother's next words that had her reining in her temper. "You're my family, little girl. If Jax has an itch he needs scratching, there's plenty of pussy on the lot he can hit without jumping into yours. He wants to step out on his old lady, shit, I ain't got a problem with that, but he's not gonna use you as his personal cum dumpster. Not my little sister," he retorted as she looked at him with wide eyes. "Now get your shit and go to your dorm. And don't worry, I won't damage his pretty face," Happy tossed over his shoulder as he opened the door, "too much," he murmured to himself as he closed the door behind him.
Gathering her shit, Marlowe had retreated to her dorm for another sleepless night. This time, however, her lack of sleep had nothing to do with PTSD and everything to do with a certain sexy blond biker.
Over the next two days, things had been quiet around the lot. While hang-arounds and Prospects spent time repairing the Clubhouse, Marlowe did her best to stay out of sight, spending most of her time visiting Tía. Running into the SAMCRO President once or twice, he didn't look any worse for wear, but it was obvious he was preoccupied with trying to figure out who was behind the attack while keeping the MC out of Lieutenant Roosevelt's crosshairs.
But on Saturday night, Marlowe had been summoned to the Chapel in her capacity as the Club doc. It was the first time she would exchange actual words with Jax since their encounter in his dorm and what he had to say sent a tremor of fear through her which she quickly smothered.
The Sons, along with another MC, were going on a covert operation and as the Club's medic, she was going along for the ride.
Despite her initial quiver of fear, Marlowe had taken it in stride. Not asking the why of the mission—after all, a bag of heads and a shot up Clubhouse was a pretty big fuckin' clue that retaliation was on the table—she figured that in terms of the flow of information, she was on a "need-to-know" basis. The only question she asked was in regard of what she could expect by way of injuries, and then asked to be dismissed by Jax so that she could go and make preparations.
Now as she followed behind the two vans with Happy riding shot gun and Tig and Kozik in the back seat, Marlowe could only hope that she was prepared enough to take care of the men that, in such a short period of time, she had grown so close to.
Crouched in the underbrush between Happy and Jax, and not for the first time, Marlowe wondered just what the fuck she had gotten herself into. She was still reeling a little from the sight of the three bodies splayed out in front of the dilapidated trailer that sat at the bottom edge of what was undoubtedly the enemy base camp.
The sunrise had seen the convoy of Sons—joined by other vans that, according to Kozik, contained members of the Mayans MC—driving through the town of Chico. Exiting to its outskirts, they headed to the location of the base camp where the crew responsible for the attack on the SAMCRO Clubhouse had set up house. Seeing the bodies of the unsuspecting men that had been enjoying a spirited game of poker before ending up dead, it suddenly became very clear to Marlowe that it had indeed been a long time since she had seen this kind of action and had to sternly remind herself to keep her shit together.
Not knowing much of anything, Marlowe had been ordered to stay stationed in one of the cargo vans while the rest of the group slowly advanced on the first line of defense for the Lobos Sonora camp. Hearing the gunfire, Marlowe's facial expression did not betray her concern for the Sons or for two patches in particular. Instead, when minutes later Tig returned to the van and motioned her to follow him, she hefted her medic kit on her back, only briefly allowing her eyes to take in the first casualties from the initial assault before following Tig into the trees.
There was no doubt in her mind now that there was a war being conducted on American soil, and she was pretty damn sure that her participation in it wouldn't win her any medals. As a matter of fact, all she could really hope for was that they would survive the shit fest in one piece and stay ahead of law enforcement.
Within a few minutes, she found herself snuggled in between Jax and her brother. She could tell by Hap's expression that he wasn't at all keen on her being there. That was nothing new, however, as he had already voiced his disapproval on her inclusion on today's events the night before, so she focused her attention instead on his President.
"I want you close, Marley," Jax said quietly as he braced the FN-67 in his arms. "It's more than likely that we'll suffer some casualties and I want you in a position to treat them ASAP."
But more important, I need you close so I know that you're not alone and unprotected, the outlaw thought to himself. Leaving her behind in the cargo van for someone to sneak up on had not been a smart play.
"Hap, you stick close to her," Jax ordered.
"I should be with you," Happy whisper-argued, his feelings of conflict plain on his face, his strong desire to protect his Pres at war with his need to look after his sister.
"I can handle my shit," Jax replied brusquely. "Stick with Marlowe."
Just then, Romeo, leading a group of men, shouted orders. "Jax, take your group to the left with Luis. Alvarez, take your guys to the right to circle around and cut off their exit. My men will take point and advance up the middle."
Jax nodded. "Juice," he called. "Watch Clay's back," he ordered as the two men followed after Romeo.
"You know it, brother," the Intel Officer replied quickly.
"Let's do this shite, brutha," Chibs said.
Leaving Happy and Marlowe behind, Jax and Chibs followed after Luis to take flank.
"I hope they know what they're doing," Marlowe said quietly as she watched the group of men head off to their positions.
"So do I," Happy murmured.
Bending over one of the Cartel's soldier writhing in pain, Marlowe worked quickly, assessing the damage and rendering aid as the sound of gunfire screamed over her head. By her side, Happy kept his position, his FN-67 held at the ready as he laid down cover fire, assisting his brothers and protecting Marlowe.
"How much longer, Marley?" he said calmly and let go of another few rounds.
"Almost done," she replied just as calm as she fastened the last bandage and watched as the injection of morphine started to work on her patient. "Let's get him out of here," she ordered.
"Where the fuck to?" her brother shouted as he let loose another barrage of gunfire.
Marlowe whipped her head around. "Back the way we came," she shouted and having placed her med kit on her back, grabbed the fallen soldier's rifle. "You take him. I'll cover you."
"Little girl, are you fuckin' crazy?" Happy shouted, his calm demeanor quickly vanishing.
"No, but you are if you think I can carry a man weighing at least 225 pounds twenty feet. C'mon, soldier. Move your ass," she ordered. "Right now," she insisted and then sighting a target, opened fire.
Seeing that she was right, Happy quickly hoisted the man by his uninjured shoulder and quickly made his way back to a sharp outcropping of rocks and heard as Marlowe continued to lay down cover fire as she followed behind him.
Damn, my little sister's a bit of a bad ass, he marveled to himself.
The last twenty minutes had opened his eyes to that fact and more as he watched Marlowe in action. Refusing to stay behind when the initial shooting started, Happy had no choice but to follow behind her as she quickly crawled out of the underbrush towards the fighting. So far, she had tended to four wounded men on site, one Cartel, two Mayans and one of the SAMTAC brothers when a fifth man from Alvarez's group went down.
The fighting was brutal and intense. So unrelenting that Happy wondered just how long they could keep up this level of fighting before some enterprising busybody alerted the pigs and they showed up to the party.
Finally getting the wounded man to cover, Happy looked up as several men ran up to take the soldier from him.
"Shit, 'mano, it looks like they got thirty, maybe forty guns up there," the man pointed to a ridge covered with trees and rocks. "My group is trying to circle around to get them from behind and take them out," the man said in heavily accented English, when suddenly the entire group froze as they heard a loud piercing whine.
"Get down!" Marlowe ordered. "Land mine!"
The noise of the explosion that followed rocked the area, with dirt, rocks and body parts seemingly falling from the sky. Perching herself on her knees, Marlowe watched in horror as she saw two figures trying to make their way back through the rocky brush. "No! Stop!" she yelled. "Land mines!"
But it was too late. Marlowe heard the loud whine as another device was set off and watched in horror as it blew, hurling two bodies into the air.
"Kozik!" she screamed.
Jax was dying for a cigarette, but with Marlowe insisting that he take his filthy habit outside and away from her workspace, he decided to stay put.
The convoy had made quick work of making its way back to Charming. The war, such as it was, was over for now. It had required some drastic action on Jax's part, but as a result, the Lobos Sonora crew had been eviscerated. For the moment, they had been victorious. Now they needed to regroup after returning with their wounded.
And their dead.
The Clubhouse was currently filled to capacity with Sons, Mayans, and Cartel soldiers, quite a few of which were wounded, some of them seriously. With all of the normally vacant dorms currently occupied, Marlowe was forced to use the Chapel as another triage area. Jax had not left the Chapel the entire time Marlowe was working on Alvarez. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen so much blood, but he didn't let that deter him from sticking to his stance. Although Marlowe insisted that she would be fine, Jax had refused to leave her alone with the Mayans. Allies they may be now, but the SAMCRO Pres wasn't taking any chances. She worked for the Club, making her safety his responsibility.
Truth was he liked to watch her work. She was a totally different animal when she was in what he knew was her element. Marlowe was fast, efficient, and cool under pressure. Seeing her jump into action to help the wounded today, including a couple of his brothers and one of Romeo's men, as landmines went off and RPGs exploded overhead had been an impressive sight. It was obvious that she had come into her own honing her craft on the bloody battlefields of Afghanistan.
The Mayan President had lost his own personal physician during a gun battle a couple of weeks before and Jax could see that although he was the one injured, Marcus was watching her work with great interest as well. He had been especially impressed when he had spoken to his Sergeant-at-Arms in Spanish, only to have Marlowe jump into the conversation, telling Alvarez in his own native tongue that it was rude to talk about her when she was standing right in front of him. It was also stupid considering that she was the one keeping him from bleeding to death. While his SAA didn't think that was funny at all, Alvarez busted out with genuine laughter, which was cut short by the searing pain in his leg.
"I should steal you away from SAMCRO," Alvarez said as Marlowe worked on his arm in order to set him up with an I.V. "How much are they paying you? Whatever it is, I'll double it," he said managing to flash her an engaging smile.
"Those are the painkillers talking, Marcus," Marlowe teased as she continued working. "Besides, I'm loyal to a fault. Unless SAMCRO gives me the boot, I'm staying put."
At that Jax smiled. I knew I liked her for a reason.
"Aww, maybe you shouldn't have said that out loud. At the very least, I coulda helped you get them to pay you more, sweetheart," Marcus replied.
"Hey, at least buy me a drink before you start calling me, sweetheart," Marlowe smiled engagingly, once again confirming for Jax that just when he thought he had her pegged, it was only a matter of time before she threw him off again.
"You've got the best bedside manner, you know that?" Marcus added drowsily.
"I was about to say that myself," Jax, who was leaning against the wall with his arms over his muscled chest, said as his eyes connected with Marlowe's when she looked up at him. She had almost forgotten he was still there.
"What is all that?" Alvarez's SAA asked, gesturing towards the I.V. "And why is he acting all loopy?" the young man asked, not accustomed to seeing his President so relaxed and at ease with strangers, especially not while in a former-rival's Clubhouse. No matter how good-looking she was.
"That's a glucose drip. Marcus lost a lot of blood and now that I stopped the bleeding, we need to replace the loss volume, which enables his remaining red blood cells to oxygenate body tissue," Marlowe explained as she pulled off her latex gloves. "And he's 'loopy' from the meds I had to give him to dull the pain while I basically performed surgery on his leg without the benefit of anesthesia."
"How long is that gonna take? I need to get him out of here soon," the SAA demanded.
"He's not going anywhere tonight," Marlowe replied candidly. "He will need at least another bag, maybe two of the glucose before he's stable enough to travel."
"Nah, see, that's not gonna happen," the SAA insisted. "You're just gonna have to come with us."
"No." Jax stood up straight. "That's not gonna happen."
"What? You don't trust us?" The SAA asked, taking a step towards Jax.
"I can ask you the same question," Jax replied, not backing down as he stood almost a head taller than the man in front of him.
"Can you please take your macho bullshit outside?" Marlowe directed at Jax. "He's not going anywhere unless you're taking him to a hospital and, since I know that won't happen, we're both staying put."
"Rafi, chill out, man," Alvarez said drowsily. "Doc here is good people. Do as she says."
Running a hand over his clean-shaven chin, Rafi shook his head. "Only if we can have a few more of our guys come and watch over him."
"Okay, but I didn't just spend the last hour trying to save his life only to murder him in his sleep," Marlowe responded.
"Whoa, hold on, Marlowe. That's not your call to make," Jax commanded.
Taking a step back, Marlowe crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine. How far is Oakland from here?"
"Why?" Jax asked, his mouth tight and his blue eyes blazing.
"If his Club insists on moving him, I may have to make a few trips to Oakland and back," Marlowe replied evenly.
Jax's nostrils flared. "Can I talk to you outside for a minute?" The SAMCRO Pres headed for the Chapel doors, where he stopped and waited for Marlowe to make a move to indicate that she was following him.
Almost throwing her hands up in frustration, Marlowe turned to Rafi. "Let him sleep. I'll be back to check on him in about an hour."
In spite of the late hour, Marlowe noticed that the main room of the Clubhouse was as lively and rowdy as it was during after-Church parties on Fridays, with food and liquor plentiful. Although Marlowe had given firm instructions to the wounded under her care to abstain from their usual boisterous drinking, she could clearly see that some were quite happy to ignore her instructions. She could only hope that they didn't keel over from a mix of alcohol and drugs as she wasn't in the mood to pump anyone's stomach. Sensing she had somehow stepped over the boundaries set for her, Marlowe figured that would probably be the least of her problems.
Reluctantly forced to follow Jax outside, Marlowe watched as a couple of Prospects sitting on the picnic table became a blur of ass and elbows after Jax gruffly told them to get lost. Indicating for her to take a seat with a nod of his head, Jax lit a much-needed cigarette.
"If you don't mind, I'd rather stand for my ass-chewing," Marlowe replied, earning a hard look from the handsome biker as he exhaled a trail of blue smoke through flared nostrils.
At least she knows what's coming, Jax thought grimly.
Brushing aside the fact that he hadn't wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Marlowe Guthrie in a long time, he also tried to keep in mind that she wasn't actually Club property, and gave her the once-over in an effort to keep his temper in check. New to the MC world, Marlowe was still learning how to function within the Clubhouse walls. That much he understood. As a matter of fact, this was a learning experience for everyone involved. She wasn't a croweater or an old lady and she definitely wasn't a member. Her role, although undefined in terms familiar to the brotherhood, was significant and important nonetheless. And even though she wasn't a bitch about it, it was obvious in the way she carried herself that, with her military and medical background, she commanded respect.
Giving it a quick thought, Jax realized that maybe the MC world wasn't so new to her after all, especially since she probably had to fight harder than most to make a place for herself in the male-dominated Navy. Put into such perspective, Jax was starting to understand the quirks that set her apart from the other women hanging around the Clubhouse. Specifically, the habit she had of standing in front of him like a soldier at ease, which, for lack of a better word, made him, well, uneasy. Jax was more accustomed to the stance adopted by most of the croweaters, which included their tits popping out from low-cut necklines and into his face. That he could handle. A woman standing in front of him with a posture that screamed she was ready to kick him in the balls with her combat boots if she didn't like the next words out of his mouth he wasn't so used to.
He should have seen it from the way she handled Happy that Marlowe wasn't a woman that could be easily intimidated. In reality, it was quite the opposite.
Tall and lean, with muscles that no woman he's ever known possessed, she wasn't keen on unnecessary chatter. With a sharp mind, an even sharper tongue and absolutely no filter, she definitely wasn't a shrinking violet. As a Corpsman, it was obvious that Marlowe was more accustomed to giving orders than taking them. Standing in front of him, her tan cargo pants and black tank top covered in the blood of today's wounded, Jax suddenly—and unpleasantly—realized that she intimidated him! Not even Gemma at the height of her Queen of Charming reign could declare such a victory over him. As far as Jax knew, he didn't think there was anyone alive that could intimidate him.
Except for the young woman standing before him with the pin-up girl tattoo on a remarkably well-defined bicep. She wasn't physically intimidating—well, actually, she was because Jax still couldn't get over the fact that a woman could be built like that and still retain some feminine softness. He knew, however, that she would never be able to take him hand-to-hand. At the very least, he'd get thrown off guard if she came at him with aggression, long enough for her to get several good shots in. What intimidated him the most was what was behind those dramatic heather gray eyes.
As Happy had said on more than one occasion, "My sister is one tough bitch."
"Is this how it's gonna work between us?" Jax asked.
Unsure how he should handle a woman like Marlowe, instead of calming himself down with his introspection, Jax had managed to rile himself up more. It didn't help that every time he laid eyes on her he wanted to kiss her until she was breathless, even more so now that it looked like she wanted to tear a strip off of him. He knew that most of what he was feeling at the moment was residual anger as a result of the truly fucked-up events of the day. He also knew that a lot of it had to do with the resentment he felt towards Marlowe herself for keeping him at arm's length.
As irrational as it might seem to those around him, SAMCRO had come close to being wiped off the face of the earth in their battle against Lobos and his only one regret would have been not taking Marlowe into his bed. God help her if she decided to sass him back because Jax was one hair trigger away from throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her off to his dorm.
"I'm sorry for stepping out of line just now," Marlowe said softly. As if it wasn't enough that she threw him off guard with her unexpected apology, the sincere remorse in her eyes almost floored Jax.
Instead of gracefully accepting her apology, however, Jax regressed into asshole-mode.
"Then why the fuck did you?" he growled.
"I thought it was the right call to make—" she started, only to be interrupted.
"Those are calls you don't get to make, Doc. After that I.V. drip is finished, I want them gone," Jax demanded as he started back towards the Clubhouse. "The last thing we need is law enforcement catching wind of an alliance between SAMCRO and the Mayans. With Roosevelt and his deputies practically sitting on our asses since the shooting, we can't risk having a whole crew of Mayans camped out on the lot in front of a make-shift hospital. We don't need that kind of attention right now."
"Then what's the point of me being here if you won't listen to my advice?" Marlowe asked, still looking straight ahead.
Taking one last drag from his cigarette before tossing it aside, he walked back to Marlowe. "Your job isn't to give advice, darlin'. You are here to patch up wounds."
Marlowe turned her head slightly to look him in the eye. "And I've done that. All your brothers hurt today have been taken care of and are in no danger," she stated calmly. "Except for Kozik."
"We're not discussing this again," Jax warned.
"You need to get him to the hospital," Marlowe replied, ignoring his edict.
"He doesn't want to go," Jax said petulantly.
"Because he doesn't want to hurt the Club," Marlowe argued. "You don't get him to the hospital within the next twenty-four hours, gangrene will set in. After that, all I can do for him is amputate his leg."
"Don't you have antibiotics you can give him?" Jax countered, letting himself truly hear the gravity of the situation for the first time.
Marlowe was incredulous. "Have you seen how mangled his leg is? Even if I can save it, which would be a fuckin' miracle without proper treatment in a proper setting with proper equipment, he'll never be able to use it again."
Jax ran his ringed-hand over the hair on his chin. "Why didn't you tell me that before?"
"I didn't think I had to. I had him all convinced to let me take him until you voiced your concern about blowback against the Club," Marlowe replied.
Marlowe had spent a considerable amount of time working on Kozik in one of the cargo vans as it made its way to Charming and a lot of the time was spent talking to convince the patch of the seriousness of his injuries.
Watching Kozik fly into the air only to come down with a sickening thud had been awful and she had pulled away from Happy to run to his aid. He had been fortunate in that the Galindo soldier had taken the brunt of the blast, dying instantly and shielding Kozik from being outright blown to pieces. His right leg had taken the combined force of the impact of the explosion and his fall back down to earth. It had taken a full hour on the way back to Charming to stabilize his injuries and another hour working on him in his dorm with Chibs' assistance, doing what she could to repair some of the damage. She had finally coaxed him into going to the hospital but when the subject was broached with Jax and he saw his President's hesitation, Kozik changed his mind, refusing to go to St. Thomas in order to protect his brothers.
Jax sighed deeply. "He knows he can lose his leg?"
"I had to tell him, but he doesn't care. He said that sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the good of the entire Club," Marlowe grimaced as she shook her head.
"Then it's settled, Doc," Jax noted solemnly . "He doesn't want to go, so do what you can for him here."
"Jax, please," Marlowe pleaded. "Don't repay his idiotic loyalty by letting him lose his leg."
One blond eyebrow shot up in contempt. "He's an idiot because he's loyal?"
"Yeah, he is," she replied without hesitation. "He's as much an idiot as I am, loyal to a fault. Kozik is serving SAMCRO the way we both served in the military—believing whole-heartedly that no sacrifice is too big for the good of the cause. Only problem is that sometimes no one remembers all the good you did and the sacrifices made. Then you find yourself alone dealing with the consequences wrought by that blind loyalty. I told him it wasn't worth it."
"What did he say?"
"He said thinking that way can get me killed," Marlowe replied honestly. "And from experience, I know he's right, but I'm not scared, Jax. With everything that's already been taken from me, my life was all I had left to give and no one can take away what I've already willfully given up to SAMCRO."
Marlowe was many things, delusional was not one of them. After the shit storm she found herself caught in the middle of today, she knew one way she wasn't dying was of old age.
The intensity with which Jax was looking at Marlowe was enough to make her flush when he suddenly turned and started heading back to the Clubhouse. "What plausible excuse can he give about his leg?" he called over his shoulder.
"Plausible?" Marlowe asked, almost having to run to catch up. "You mean besides that a landmine almost blew it up?"
Jax stopped halfway through the Club door and turned to face her again. "Plausible without putting us on Homeland Security's watch list, darlin'."
Marlowe ran a hand through her hair. "He laid his bike down on the highway and ended up underneath a truck that proceeded to mangle his leg. With traces of gunpowder residue burned into his skin, though, that might have to go down with a grain of salt. But then again, Charming isn't exactly the inner city. Who's to say that any of the doctors pick up on it?"
"And why didn't he go to the hospital right away?" Jax asked quietly, playing devil's advocate.
"Aside from his irrational phobia of hospitals, he's Vet insurance is limited and was afraid his medical bills would bankrupt him. After the accident, he wasn't in his right mind and the gravity of the situation didn't set in right away. I patched him up as best as I could and it took some time, but I finally convinced him that he had to go to the hospital or he was gonna lose his leg. Not all of it is a lie," Marlowe grinned wryly. "I think I can sell it." She felt her heart sigh with relief at his reply.
"Good. Get him ready," Jax said as he headed back inside, once again stopping short at the bar. "Don't fuck this up." He pointed a finger at her.
"What about Marcus?" she asked, dropping her voice so only he could hear.
Jax almost sighed in frustration at her relentless tenacity. "The Mayans can take him to the hospital if they want. They're the ones who are gonna have to come up a really good reason why he's sporting three bullet holes. Somehow, I don't think saying it happened while hunting will fly with the cops," he replied sarcastically.
"You know they won't take him," Marlowe chided, refusing to give up. "If he dies, who's to say that doesn't blowback on SAMCRO?"
"I say." Jax stepped waaay into her personal space. Their eyes locked and Jax couldn't help the smirk that curled his lips as Marlowe dropped her gaze first. The smirk was in danger of turning into an all-out leer as he noticed her eyes had fallen to his lips. "You wanna kiss me again, don'tcha?" he teased, looking to throw her off her game like she had him.
Slowly bringing her eyes back to his striking blue ones, Marlowe gave him a slight nod. "I am a red-blooded woman, after all," she replied nonchalantly. "I'd probably do it too if you weren't being such a prick right now." That and if Happy wasn't floating around.
"Yeah, that's right, Doc," he almost whispered, his fingers itching to lose themselves in her hair. "We do have some unfinished business leftover from the other night to take care of, don't we?"
"Maybe, but I think it's best if we just leave that shit unfinished, Jax," Marlowe replied earnestly.
Jax laughed, a sexy rumble that started deep within his chest. After all the shit he had been through the last couple of days, he ached for a moment of bliss with the woman standing in front of him. Maybe she was what he needed to remember the good old days when life was simpler, free of cartels and gun battles with an enemy he couldn't make himself give a shit about. Barely giving Tara a second thought, Jax licked his lips as the fire he had doused in lieu of more pressing matters reignited, fueling his desire for Marlowe once again.
"I really don't think that's an option anymore. We both know that's not what we want, darlin', to forget what we haven't really started yet."
Marlowe shook her head. God, he has no idea how true that is! "What's with this 'we' business? You're getting ahead of yourself, outlaw," she started with feigned bravado. "I just think you've got a pretty mouth and got caught looking."
His blue eyes flashed wickedly at her. "There's not much that's 'pretty' about me, Doc."
Marlowe chuckled with a raised an eyebrow. "Nice try, but 'modest' doesn't really describe you, Pres."
Jax bit his bottom lip in an effort to suppress a smirk. "Arrogant prick better?" he challenged with a raised eyebrow of his own.
Marlowe shrugged her shoulders. "I only called you a 'prick', but 'arrogant prick' works, too."
As frustrating as having this conversation with the object of his desire was, Jax suddenly realized that he had long ago lost the battle of wills with Marlowe. When all he could ever think of doing anymore when she was in his orbit was dragging her to his dorm and fucking the smartass out of her, Jax knew she already had him by the short hairs.
Finally giving in, he said, "You go get Kozik ready for transport to the hospital. I'll let Rafi know he can have two of his guys inside. They can take it or leave it. I really don't give a shit," Jax said, and Marlowe noted a little gleefully, with a little less bluster.
"Thank you." Marlowe put her hand on his arm ever-so briefly. Real or imagined, Jax could have sworn he saw a spark fly just as Marlowe pulled her hand away. Almost like she had touched a live wire, Marlowe knew she had felt electricity surge through her body as she came into contact with his skin. "Shit," she said, her voice a breathy whisper.
"Shit, indeed." The lecherous grin was back and aimed at her at full blast as this time she felt herself flush.
Momentarily succumbing to her need to feel normal again, Marlowe realized she had probably let things go too far with their playful banter. There was only one true outlet for the tension they were creating together, but the sensible woman in Marlowe was determined not to let her cross that line.
"We agreed that door was closed for us, Jax, so let's keep it that way," she said quietly before turning away. "Now if only I could just remember that shit myself,"she muttered to herself irritably.
Watching her leave his orbit, hips swaying prettily just for him, Jax suddenly became keenly aware of the fact that he was also being watched. Looking around the crowded room, his brothers looking like the plan was to break night with a handful of croweaters to help pass the time, he noticed Happy propped up against one of the corners. His gaze was unfaltering, an undeniably angry glare directed at him.
Hap's still pissed, Jax thought as he eyed his brother.
His SAA had voiced his strong disapproval of Jax's decision to have Marlowe join them for their Lobos hunt, but Jax was glad he hadn't listened. Bringing her on board had been the right move. Not only had she been needed, but she had proven herself incredibly capable under difficult circumstances. As much as Jax knew he was only looking out for his sister, even Happy couldn't deny that shit. Turning to head towards the Chapel to speak to Rafi, Jax dismissed Happy's anger.
Happy, however, had seen his sister in action and couldn't have been prouder of her performance. Marlowe had proven herself with her med kit as well as with a weapon in her hand. The only weapon that was causing Hap any concern now, however, was the one Jax was wielding in his pants. Apparently, the notorious Teller Cock was both a blessing and a curse for the otherwise strong and capable women it had turned into hot ass messes.
I love my brother and would die to protect him, but I'll be damned if I let Jax add Marley to that pathetic list.
"Marley-lass," Chibs was walking towards her as she turned the corner at JT's bike. "I think our boy Kozy is running a temperature."
Marlowe furrowed her brow as she walked with Chibs back to Kozik's dorm. "Is he awake?"
"Yay. He had a fitful nap for about twenty minutes at one point, but the pain in his leg is gettin' too much to bear, luvvie," Chibs replied as they were about to enter the room.
"Hey, Koz," Marlowe smiled as she approached the bed. "How ya holding up?"
"Hey, Doc," Kozik reached out and grabbed her hand. "I wanna put up a brave front for ya 'cuz I don't wanna come across like pussy, but its rough going."
"I can imagine. That's why I'm taking you to the hospital," she announced and Kozik was already shaking his head.
"Can't do it."
"You can and you will because you have to," Marlowe contradicted. "I can't do much more for you here and it would be a damn shame if you lose that leg, especially since with surgery I think you have a good chance of making a full recovery."
"You know da doctors will start askin' questions. Wha' happens then, luvvie?" Chibs asked.
"I'm not gonna leave your side, Koz. I'll handle any questions. You just writhe in pain and complain, scream if you have to and they'll probably rush you right into surgery," she explained. Kozik was lying on the bed, shirtless and propped up with several pillows. He was definitely feverish, his handsome face sweaty and flushed. He looked on the verge of caving, but she could see the struggle playing out in his mind on whether or not he should take one for the team. "I already cleared it with Jax."
"You did?" he asked, brow furrowed and hope in his voice.
"Absolutely. I don't think he understood how serious the situation was until I explained it," Marlowe replied and when it looked like he was still hesitating, she added, "He doesn't want you to lose your leg anymore than I do."
"Is it really that serious, Doc?" Kozik ran his hand over his face, wincing as a sharp, stabbing pain went through his leg.
"It is, brutha. You need to go. Now," Chibs spoke up and Marlowe almost let out a sigh of relief.
Finally! Marlowe knew Kozik wasn't going to let her take him anywhere until one of his brothers let him know it was okay to think of his own well-being first.
"Okay," Kozik said tiredly. "I'll go, but I'm counting on you to protect me, Doc, and the Club. This shit can't blow back on them."
"It won't. I promise."
Monday, June 7, 2010
It was almost seven o'clock in the evening when Happy finally rolled onto the T-M lot. The garage was about to close for the day and, in spite of the events of the last twenty-four hours, it looked like it was back to business as usual. Letting Marlowe jump off before backing his bike into one of the few free spots left, Happy realized that most of the other charters would probably be sticking around for a while longer.
Leaving Happy to fiddle with his bike, Marlowe entered the Clubhouse and was assaulted by the delicious smell of something cooking in the kitchen. Her stomach growled in happy anticipation as she approached the bar.
"Hey, Marley-girl," Bobby greeted the medic with a big grin as he patted the bar stool next to him. "Hop on up here and have some of the Chili I just finished making. I got some 'hash-free' brownies in the oven too."
Propping her elbow on the bar, Marlowe pushed her loose caramel-colored hair away from her face with the other hand. "Thanks, Bobby. I'd love to, but I need to check up on the wounded and shower first. Save me some?"
"You got it, sweetheart," Bobby winked at her.
Marlowe tiredly pushed herself from the bar and was on her way to the Chapel when the door flew open and Jax stepped out.
"Thought I heard ya," he smiled at her as he crossed his arms over his chest, his legs shoulder-width apart. "How's Kozik doing?"
"It was touch and go, but the surgeon was able to save his leg. He's gonna have trouble going through airport security from now on, but with physical therapy, he'll be walking and riding in no time," Marlowe replied with a huge grin.
"Screws?" Jax asked, slightly wincing at the thought of titanium screws being drilled into human bone.
"And a plate," Marlowe nodded. "He has to stay in ICU for the next 24 hours before they move him to a regular room. He's lucky. Despite my best efforts, infection was already starting to set in. The surgeon removed the infected tissue and they started him on an aggressive course of antibiotics. He'll be laid up in St. Thomas for a while, but I did get to speak to him for a minute before I got kicked out and he's in a really good mood."
Seeing Happy enter the Clubhouse over Marlowe's shoulder, Jax narrowed his eyes and stepped around the young woman. "Who's watching Kozik's back at the hospital?"
"Tig stayed behind with a couple of Prospects," Happy replied, his face set in stone. "Came back to drop Marlowe off and get a couple hours of sleep before going back to relieve Tig. . . if that's a'ight with you?" he said, a tone of challenge in the SAA's voice.
Ignoring the two bristling patches, Marlowe looked into the Chapel and found it empty and clean. Quickly whipping around, she asked, "Where's Marcus?"
"Prolly in his own bed by now," Jax replied, not taking his eyes off Happy.
Marlowe rolled her eyes and cursed under her breath. She should have known that Jax would put them out the minute she left for the hospital with Kozik.
Turning to face the tall, lithe and clearly pissed off woman, Jax started, "Hey, they stayed the night, darlin'. Ask Chibs, he was the one watching over him. And you'll be happy to know that Alvarez was able to walk out of here this morning."
"What? Are you serious?" Marlowe looked at Jax with wide eyes.
He nodded, a big ol' grin threatening to split his face in two. "Yup. You really impressed him. Said he was gonna make another play at stealing you away from SAMCRO."
Marlowe chuckled. "What did you say?"
Jax smirked, "That you're a pain in the ass and more trouble then you're worth and that I was gonna think about letting him have you."
"Oh, I see," Marlowe smiled knowingly. "So he offered you a vig this time, huh?"
"Maybe," Jax winked at her.
More than just a little disgusted with the barely contained sexual tension between the two, Happy stepped around the pair. "I'm gonna hit the sack."
Marlowe quirked an eyebrow at her suddenly pissy brother as he disappeared down the hall towards the dorm. "Well, I better wash up before checking on the wounded." Turning to head for her dorm, Marlowe stopped as she felt a hand grabbing hers, pulling until she was turned around again .
"You did really good, Doc. I hope you know that," Jax said, the admiration for her coming through in his voice, his eyes boring into hers. "I don't know too many people who could have held it together like you did yesterday, all the while dealing with a grumpy biker giving you shit."
Marlowe couldn't help but grin at the praise. It had been a long time since she had felt valuable and needed, and even longer still since she felt like she was a part of something. The last twenty-four hours had been a lot harder than she could have possibly imagined and as the tiredness and the weight of that crept through her bones, she realized that she needed to make her exit soon before she started blubbering like an idiot.
"Thanks," she said, her voice nearly cracking with emotion. Quickly turning away, Marlowe's long strides carried her towards the dorms even as her vision started to blur.
It was pushing ten o'clock when Jax figured that it was about time he made his way home. The fact that he didn't want to go home was weighing on him, but after being MIA two nights in a row, he figured that his old lady would really put a foot up his ass should he not show up again tonight. Besides, he really missed seeing his son.
He was truly grateful that he had Marlowe to rely on as the Club's medic. There was no way he could have pulled Tara in for what had gone down this weekend. The mere suggestion would have sent her flying off the edge, and if by some miracle she had consented, while he had complete confidence in her medical skills, Jax wasn't so sure she would have been able to handle the type of shit that had rained down on the Club on what was now being called Bloody Sunday.
Since it had been on the news and in all the local papers, Tara was painfully aware of the attack on the compound. She didn't, however, have any knowledge of the bag of heads or of the Club's plan for retaliation. All he had seen fit to tell his old lady was that he was going on a Club-related run because that was the way Jax wanted it. The last thing he needed was Tara's voice in his head lecturing him on how bad a father and old man he actually was, nor was he interested in her opinion as to how he should fix the Club, especially since she was no longer an active participant in his life or the Club.
After weeks of estrangement, Jax had come to the foregone conclusion that he was going to have to travel on this hard road of salvaging his father's legacy on his own. It was clear to him now that Tara had only been willing to commit to him and Abel when it looked like she would get her happily ever after—a life without the Club and without Charming.
Deciding to get a beer before hitting the road, Jax walked out of the Chapel and, spotting Bobby Elvis, headed towards the bar. Even with all of the Mayan and Galindo wounded having left the premises earlier, the main room still resembled a hospital recovery unit. There were numerous banged up Club members from both SAMCRO and SAMTAC scattered about, taking up what available space there was. The craftier and mostly uninjured patches had already retreated to whatever dorms were available with croweaters in hand. Though packed to the rafters, the Clubhouse was eerily quiet, the only sound was some blues playing softly in the background.
"How's it hanging, Pres?" Bobby asked as he poured himself two fingers of Jack Daniels.
Jax grabbed a beer out of the fridge behind the bar and popped it open, taking a long pull from the bottle. Sitting on a stool next to Bobby, he sighed wearily as he looked at the father confessor of the Club. "I guess Clay wasn't shitting me: sometimes it is tough being King," he replied wryly.
"I get that," Bobby responded, "but you're doing good, son. The shit you've handled over the last couple of days shows you got the stones to sit at the head of that table. You should know that by now."
"Sometimes I feel like I don't know what the fuck I'm doing," Jax replied before taking another swig of beer.
"That shit happens to all of us," the shaggy haired biker replied. "The thing is to recognize that and work through it anyway. That's what a great leader does." Bobby downed a good portion of his drink before changing the subject. "It's good to hear that Kozik is going to be okay. I have to say, it's a real good thing we have Marley-girl on board. I don't know what would have happened if she hadn't been around."
"Yeah, I know. She really handled her shit yesterday," Jax agreed.
"The poor bitch must be tired, though," Bobby noted. "She never came back for her Chili. I don't think I've seen her eat in the last twenty-four hours. The girl needs some meat on her bones."
Jax quirked an eyebrow at the older man's concern. "Maybe I better check on her before I leave," he suggested.
"Maybe you should," Bobby said casually, and watched as his brother set his empty beer bottle on the bar and headed towards the dorms.
Something tells me it's time to start the healing, Bobby grinned into his glass before swallowing the remaining contents. Picking up his guitar from behind the bar, he decided to go out into the night air and play himself some sweet Elvis.
Glossary
Ese: slang for homie
Jefe: chief or boss
A/N: I chose to call this first story Call of Duty mainly due the fact that Marlowe Guthrie is just one of the many of characters who has a military background. I also chose it because it was the name of episode 4.10 in which the totally wrongful death of Kozik occurred. I hope that you're happy with the fact that, unlike in Kurt Sutter's world, Herman Kozik is alive and kicking (well, not quite yet, but you get the drill).This was a very intense chapter to write as I tried to capture the feelings Marlowe was experiencing as she was thrust once again into a situation with war-like conditions, all the while having to deal with a pair of ornery hot-tempered bikers.
The chemistry between Jaxlowe is definitely heating up and it seems as if the outlaw is close to the end of his rope of sexual frustration. The next chapter definitely pushes the envelope in their "relationship" as Jax is introduced to a side of Marlowe he has never seen before. He finally gets to see the object of his desire not through the rose-colored glasses of perfection, but through the unfiltered lens of Marlowe's reality, seeing first hand the part of herself she has managed to keep from everyone thus far.
As always, your reviews are totally awesome and, if you want to see Chapter 26 on Tuesday, you know what to do!
Hugs, Harlee.