The rest of Tig's day was spent either in the Chapel or the garage, figuring shit out and planning their next move when they met with the Mayans in Lodi. Around suppertime he tried calling Aimee's place again, but once more got the machine. Strange. Tig wasn't psychic by any means, but he felt something in his gut...something he couldn't quite put his finger on...

"Hey Gem" he said, walking into the office, "you got the number of the place Aimee works at?"

"Sure thing, Tigger" she replied. "Hang on a sec..." Gemma fished through her bag until she found her little book. She flipped to the back cover, where she'd written it hastily that night at the hotel, and handed it to him.

"Thanks" said Tig, dialing the number. "I keep getting the machine at her place".

"Since they're closing, that Gus guy probably has her working her fingers off!" she joked. Tig laughed and turned to look out the door.

"Hampton's Garage"

"Hi...is Aimee around?" asked Tig.

There was a brief silence. "No...actually, she's not..." said the man on the other end. "Who may I ask is speaking?"

"Tig" he replied.

"Ah...Tig" said the man. He sighed. "I was going to call someone over there in Charming actually...Aimee didn't show up this morning. She didn't call either. Very strange for her..."

Tig felt the feeling in his stomach again as he listened to Gus speak...

"...I was wondering if she was with you..." Gus said.

"No...I've been trying to call her..." Tig said. He turned slightly, looking at Gemma. Gemma saw the expression on his face and immediately stood up.

"What...what's wrong?" she whispered.

"I've called her house, but got the machine" said Gus.

"Me too" answered Tig. "Is there anywhere else that she would be around there?"

"Not sure" said Gus. "I'm gonna get a few of the guys to go out and have a look for her. I'm sure she's alright...probably had trouble with her bike again or something..."

"Yeah..." answered Tig. "Look, call me if you hear from her...call me anyways..."

"Sure thing, son" Gus replied.

Tig hung up, staring at his phone. "She didn't show up for work this morning" he said, telling Gemma. "No one's heard from her".

Gemma looked worried. "Well...maybe she's...busy doing errands or something..."

Tig turned to Gemma. "And not call her boss? You know her, Gem, she wouldn't do that...something's wrong..."

Gemma laid her hand on Tig's arm. "Now, don't go jumping to conclusions...you know her, too...she can handle herself...let's just wait to hear..."

Clay came out of the garage, calling to the guys. It was getting close to 7pm and he had called Church to start putting everything into play. Tig looked at Gemma once more. "Keep this quiet, alright? Til we know something...and come get me if Gus calls back".

"I will, baby" she said. "Don't worry..."

Tig headed off to the clubhouse with a gnawing in his gut. Something wasn't right...he could feel it...he just hoped that she was ok...

Aimee was dragged out of the closet and down a hallway into a big room. There were chairs all around, and it looked similar to the Sons clubhouse back in Charming, only darker and scarier. The Mayan was rough as he pushed her, his hand gripping her arm too tight. He pushed her down onto a chair, facing a group of more scary men.

One guy stood, putting his cigar back in his mouth, and walked over to her. Aimee flinched as he reached up, pulling the bandana out of her mouth. She was shaking from fear, and she was leaning as far away from him as the binds would allow. The man touched her cheek where she was sure a very large bruise was.

"Sorry for the brutality, chica, but it had to be done" he said. "I hear you know Samcro quite well".

Who? What or who was Samcro? Aimee hadn't heard that before. She looked at him, confused, but too afraid to say anything.

"Heard you've taken up with Clay's right hand" the man continued.

Oh. This Samcro thing must have something to do with the Sons. Again, Aimee didn't respond. She just sat there, shaking. The man stopped walking around her, and knelt down in front of her, looking up into her face. He chuckled.

"I find that a bit hard to believe, that Tig would take you as an old lady, but my guys tell me it's true" he said. His eyes wandered up and down her body. "I suppose I can understand it, though, with tits like that".

Aimee's blood ran cold. She had never liked that word. It was crass and crude. But it was different when Tig said it - now, it was just creepy.

"See, the Sons and the Mayans? They don't like each other very much" the man continued. "And the Sons are, how shall I say...getting in our way of doing our business. You know about the guns?"

Aimee shook her head, no. She didn't know anything about guns. Tig didn't tell her very much about anything to do with the club.

"Well, your little boyfriend and his buddies deal guns" he said. "But they deal them to the wrong people - they deal them to our enemies. And you know what that makes the Sons? That makes them our enemies, too".

Aimee listened to him speak. What did this have to do with her? She felt like she was trapped in some horrible nightmare and couldn't wake up.

"So we're gonna give them a choice" he said. "They either come back on our side...or you die..."

Alvarez stood up and loomed over her. "Do you want to die, chica?"

Aimee shook her head, no. "Please..." she whispered, her voice hoarse and choked up from the tears starting to fall. "Please...don't..."

Alvarez leaned close to her face, brushing her tears away. "Shh, don't cry...it's not up to me, senorita...it's up to them". He stood up again, putting his cigar back in his mouth, and turned to talk away. Before he left the room, he looked back at her once more.

"I guess you'll find out if your boyfriend really loves you or not..."