Jimmy sat at the wrought-iron patio table, lighting a cigarette as the soft warmth of the morning sun beat down his neck. Blowing a smoke ring into the air, he scrolled through the email app on his Blackberry, not in the mood to respond to any of the borderline injudicious questions which filtered through overnight. Reading a particularly stupid message from Donny, Jimmy wondered if he'd ever find anyone with half a brain to take care of business in Northern Ireland when he had to leave the country.

There was one woman who was worthy of the adjutant position, but unfortunately, there was no convincing Catherine that coming back to the True army would be worthwhile.

Setting the cigarette into the ashtray, Jimmy took a sip of his French pressed coffee. A chill jolted down his spine, the flavor of the cheap scotch he poured in was far more overpowering than he thought it would be. Nevertheless, the pungent coffee and booze concoction was the kick in the ass he needed to get a start on his long, samey day.

"Fuck me," he breathed, clicking on the notification to read the message Dessie sent him over WhatsApp.

Dropping the Blackberry onto the table, Jimmy flipped open his burner and dialed the phone number which came over the second message. Tucking the cigarette into the corner of his mouth, he took a deep drag hoping this call wouldn't embitter him.

As Jimmy expected, it didn't take long for Dessie to answer the call. He figured the bloke was on his lunch break. Doing the math in his head, realizing it was early-afternoon back home.

"You know, I tried callin' you like half a dozen times, asshole," said Dessie through a mouthful of food.

"I know, I watched my phone ring all seven times. You're like a stage-five clinger; can't take a bloody hint."

Dessie snorted, "Believe me, talkin' to you isn't something I'm doin' for shits and giggles."

"Then what the fuck do you want?"

"I can see you're still as pleasant as ever." Over the line, Jimmy could hear some rustling around. He had no idea Dessie was eating lunch in his car. "It's about Catherine. The other night when Fi and Liv came over to tell her about Filip, Paddy was wit' 'em and he unintentionally cornered me into tellin' her about Cammy and Eddie. He told her to keep an eye on the lads and report back if she thinks they're up to anythin' dodgy."

Jimmy fell silent as he crushed his cigarette and pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried to wrap his head around what Dessie just told him but considering he was running on hardly any sleep, this proved to almost be information overload. He wanted to blow up on Dessie — scream at him for allowing Catherine to even get on the fucking plane when she was armed with such a task.

Taking a sip of his J&B infused coffee, he let the liquor soothe his flustered nerves. None of this was Dessie's fault, Jimmy reminded himself over and over. There's no way in hell Dessie would purposefully put himself in such a compromising position.

"I have a feeling that isn't even the worst part."

Dessie wouldn't have been overwrought in his attempts to get ahold of Jimmy if that's all he wanted to tell.

"Aye," huffed Dessie. "Those two've no idea there was a vote between me, Kieran, Connor, and Jack about this shite. They still think the hardware is goin' to Samcro, so if she sees Cammy and Eddie handin' over the holdalls or even meetin' with someone who isn't in a goddamn leather kutte, those two'll put pressure on me to renege on our original deal."

"Jesus-fuckin'-Christ. What do ya want me to do? Should I put her arse on the first flight back? If we tell her somethings up with one of the boys she'll-"

Dessie interjected, "Not a chance. If we rush her home and she gets here to find everything and every one just as she left 'em, she'll defo know somethings up. You just gotta keep an eye on her, Jimmy. Can't let her get close to Cammy and Eddie when she's alone."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that when I've got shite to do? Can't be fuckin' babysittin' here," he hissed.

"I don't fuckin' know! Make it…take-Catherine-to-work-day. Hand over the Visa and tell her to go shoppin' — let her spend your money and not mine for once."

Jimmy took a deep breath and then assured Dessie he'd figure something out. This was the last fucking thing either of them needed.

"Listen, I gotta go." Dessie paused, and Jimmy could hear the melancholy dripping from his words. "Keep an eye on Catherine, yeah?"

Jimmy knew Dessie was speaking in terms of more than just her emotional wellbeing. After the two men finally came to blows nearly a month and a half ago, it felt as though the scrum turned a new page for them. That's why Jimmy felt the right to do was tell Dessie that Rory had shared information about Catherine with MI5, which ended up being forwarded to the FBI, ATF, and Homeland Security.

Unfortunately for Dessie, the afternoon he went to the True army safe house to collect Rory from their custody, they found him in a back bedroom lying cold and blue on a blood-soaked mattress. Determined to go out on his terms, Rory slit his wrists while a couple of blokes played cards in the kitchen.

Unable to extract answers from him, there was no way for Dessie and Jimmy to know just what exactly the federal agents knew about Catherine. With her now being on American soil, they had to tread as if there were a shoot-to-kill order hanging over her head.

"Of course," Jimmy said softly. "I promise she'll come home to you alive."

"That's all I ask." Dessie cleared his throat and then threw a jab. He couldn't be a pussy and end their conversation on a sappy note. "And don't even think about shaggin' my wife or I'll fuck you up again."

The line went dead before Jimmy had a chance to say anything back. Snapping the phone closed, he tossed it beside his Blackberry and picked up a cigarette.

"Fat fuckin' chance," he snickered.


Fiona woke to the tantalizing scents of fresh coffee and frying sausages. She slowly opened her eyes, giving them a chance to adjust to the sunlight before pushing the thin quilt off. Planting her feet on the floor, she reached for her watch on the nightstand to check the time.

It was only eight o'clock in the morning.

Still trying to get used to the time change, the jet lag was setting in hard and fast. She barely slept a wink last night, not because of physical restlessness, but rather because her mind played horrendous jokes on her. Between the hours of midnight and five a.m., Fiona got up seven times just to make sure Jimmy was still sound sleep on the couch. Every time she was about to drift off to sleep, she swore she heard the creak of Catherine's bedroom door opening or filthy indecent noises.

Living under the same roof as Catherine and Jimmy for the next week would surely drive her mad. Fiona understood the complications that came along with Catherine no longer being a senior member of the True army. Even if Jimmy had decided to dump her off at the derelict apartment in Oakland, the men who lived there would never let her step one foot through the door. She didn't think she was asking for much by not wanting Catherine in the already tense living space, so Fiona could only assume Jimmy was doing this for his sick entertainment.

After getting up and stretching, Fiona grabbed her robe. She tied the belt around her waist as she trekked down the hall, following the smell of breakfast into the kitchen.

"Wonderful," she mumbled under her breath.

It wasn't Catherine, who she expected, but instead, Jimmy who was manning the stove.

He glanced over his shoulder, his smile dropping when he too realized it wasn't the woman he'd been hoping for. Turning his attention back to the French toast and sausages, he echoed Fiona's less than enthusiastic bid of "good morning."

Once she poured herself a cup of coffee, Fiona swiped the newspaper off the counter and went straight for the table. She absently pursed the politics section of the Sacramento Bee.

Jimmy platted a stack of French toast and brought the piled-high plate to the table along with a small bowl of fresh raspberries and blackberries. Fiona eyed the provisions suspiciously; she'd never seen Jimmy eat, let alone prepare a meal with fresh berries.

But she knew someone who ate them like a fiend.

"Where's Catherine?"

"She went for a run," he casually said. "Left about an hour ago. She should be gettin' back any minute."

Fiona took a sip of her coffee, nearly choking when he set down a bowl of icing sugar instead of syrup and butter. The fruit wasn't Jimmy trying to add variety to their breakfast — he'd made breakfast exactly the way Catherine liked it.

"Oh, my God," spat Fiona in repugnance. "You shagged her last night."

Jimmy would have laughed if he wasn't wholly insulted by her accusation. He dropped the plate of sausages on the table and then lit a cigarette. Leaning against the counter, he shook his head. It wasn't an answer to Fiona's charge — he was shaking his head at how childish she sounded.

"If I did, when would I've had the chance, huh? You checked up on me every five bloody minutes; you know I didn't move all fuckin' night. She's havin' a hard time bein' away from the wee boys so I figured I'd do something to help her feel better."

Fiona felt more embarrassed more than anything. She didn't know Jimmy was privy to her late-night bed inspections, though the fact that he did, told her that he didn't get much sleep either. And with Catherine gone on an early morning run, it was safe to assume neither did she.

The three of them sleep-deprived and homesick was a recipe for disaster.

"She's gotta go. You know I'm not comfortable with her here."

He rolled his eyes, ashing his cigarette into the sink. "I've been tellin' you for the last six years, nothing is going on between her and me."

"I don't give a shite. You're still in love with her, Jimmy, and the last thing I need is the added stress of her being here when I'm already in knots over Filip."

Fiona wished she could take back what she said about Chibs the moment those words left her mouth. Her stomach twisted when she saw the familiar devilish smirk toy at the corners of his mouth. It was the first sign he was preparing to spit venom.

"Are you sure startin' another row with me over Catherine bein' here when I'm letting you go see the husband you still love with, is a brilliant idea?"

Fiona recoiled as if Jimmy slapped her. "Oh, you're letting me see Filip?"

Jimmy strolled to the table. He dropped his cigarette into Fiona's barely touched cup of coffee and placed both hands down to lean in closer to her.

"Aye; this has fuck all to do with you, Fi. It's for Kerri. After we put Brennan O'Farrell in the ground, Catherine told me he and Kerri had been seein' each other. The last thing the wee girl needs on top of dealin' with that is wondering whether or not her da is still alive. You're gonna see Filip, let her know he's fine, and then go back to Belfast as if none of this ever happened."

"You keep Catherine here, and I'll bloody tell Kerri it was Dessie who put that bullet between the lad's eyes."

"Go for it," Jimmy challenged. "You think I give a shite about what Kerri thinks of Dessie, or if she has a relationship with Catherine? But just know, if you utter a single fuckin' word, you'll be right there in the ground with him because I don't put up with touts."

The problem with speaking before thinking was that too often things were said which held no weight. Jimmy called her bluff, thought it wasn't worth the risk to call his. It's not like she would tell Kerrianne in the first place —revealing to her daughter that Catherine and Dessie were involved in the cause would be irresponsible. It didn't matter how much Fiona despised Catherine, outing her involvement to anyone was something she'd never do.

Finally figuring out that convincing Jimmy to send Catherine away wasn't a battle she would win, the only she could do was drop it. To some extent, it wasn't exactly her feelings of resentment acting as the driving to get Catherine out of the house. With thousands of miles and an ocean separating Dessie and Catherine, Fiona just wanted to make sure the young woman wouldn't anything that would annihilate her marriage.

If anyone knew just how persuasive Jimmy could be, it was Fiona.

Fiona opened her mouth to say something, but she was silenced by the sound of the front door opening and closing.

"It smells so good in here!" Catherine's muffled croon came from the foyer, where Jimmy figured she was ditching her shoes and sweatshirt.

His stern grimace was the final warning to Fiona. She smartened up, not wanting to ruin her chances of safely ending up back in Belfast.

Watching Jimmy's gaze lift upwards and how his pout turned into a jubilant smile made Fiona sick to her stomach. She didn't have to hear Catherine's voice to know Catherine was standing behind her.

"How was your run?" he warmly asked.

Catherine sashayed to the coffeemaker, completely ignoring the spread Jimmy had laid out on the table. "It was fine. Of course, the views I had here don't hold a bloody candle to south Armagh."

Jimmy and Fiona both had eyes glued to her, but for wholly different reasons. The tight sports bra Catherine only wore on her top half, left an ample amount of cleavage for Jimmy to drool over. Fiona felt the stinging claws of jealously over how tight and toned her curves were even after three pregnancies. The elastic band of her joggers sat above her wide hips, accentuating her small waist.

There wasn't a single blemish to be found on her creamy skin. Fiona lost all desire to eat with a body like Catherine's being flaunted in front of her. She wondered how it was even possible for her not to have a single — noticeable — stretch mark.

No wonder Jimmy and Dessie were fighting over her, Fiona thought. There was no way she could compete with that.

Jimmy licked his lips, tasting the saltiness of her skin as he imagined kissing the length of her spine. He was so deep in his lewd imagination, Jimmy didn't notice Fiona's eyes were burning holes into him.

Unaware of his gawking, Catherine poured herself a cup of coffee. She grabbed a handful of pink Sweet'n Low packets, dumping the sugar substitute into the black liquid.

"That shite'll rot your insides." Jimmy pointed to the empty packets on the counter beside her mug.

"Aye, so it will." Catherine licked the spoon she used to stir. "But I'd rather have rotten insides than a fat arse."

"Yeah, well, who says your arse isn't fat already?"

Catherine spun around, taking a sip. "For your sake, you better be referring to my arse as p-h-a-t, and not f-a-t."

"It's been too long since I've seen it up close, so I can't be certain if it's p-h-a-t or f-a-t. If you would be so kind and show me, I'll be able to give you a definitive answer."

Fiona wasn't sure how much more of this shameless flirting she could take. A part of her did wonder if he was doing this just to spite her and make her feel uncomfortable. The only thing that kept her from gagging, was imagining Filip doling out a rightful beatdown if he heard the way Jimmy spoke to Catherine.

Catherine narrowed her eyes, a playful smirk threatening to make an appearance. "Smooth, O'Phelan — very, very smooth. Mega props for tryin'. Well, I'm gonna jump in the shower so we can head out."

Armed with her coffee, Catherine started making her way out of the kitchen.

"Oi!" Jimmy called out to her. "Get your arse back here and eat! I didn't toil over a hot stove for all of this to go to waste!"

He heard her muffled response from the bathroom. "I'll eat when I'm done."

Satisfied, Jimmy sat down at the table and started making himself a plate. He looked up to see Fiona bitterly staring at him.

"What?"

"You're a bleedin' degenerate." Reaching across the table, Fiona took Jimmy's coffee. She stood up so she could head back into the master bedroom and start getting ready to head to St. Thomas. But before she left, she offered some words of wisdom. "For the love of God, keep your cock outta her. That kind of drama is the last thing any of us need again."

Digging into a mound of French toast, Jimmy shrugged. "Can't make any promises, love."


Catherine shut off the water and pulled the curtain back, jumping nearly a foot in the air. Her brain hadn't registered it was Jimmy sitting on the vanity, so she instinctually wrapped the curtain around her body.

"Oh, relax," he snickered. Picking up the towel beside him, he tossed it to Catherine, who caught it one-handed. "No use in hiding what you've got when I've seen ya naked a million times before."

Shaking the towel open, Catherine couldn't get it tied around her fast enough. Thankfully her skin was already flushed from taking such a hot shower, the burning blush glowing on her cheeks went unnoticed by him.

During their relationship, she had never been shy about her body, despite the cellulite, thicker than average thighs, and a small pouch of a belly. But now, that stupid little scar she was left with after the C-section sank the last ounce of confidence she managed to hold on to during her pregnancy.

She shook off his impolite comment, holding the towel tight, wiping beads of water off her face. "What do you want, Jimmy"

He didn't answer her right away. Instead, Jimmy carefully watched Catherine as she stepped out of the tub, going straight for her toothbrush and toothpaste. Only when she started scrubbing her pearly whites did he come crashing back down to Earth.

Since his early morning conversation with Dessie, he's been busy formulating a plan on how to keep Catherine away from Cameron and Edmond when he couldn't be there to chaperon. While Dessie didn't want Catherine to know what the father-son duo was up to, Jimmy wondered if keeping her in the dark completely would end up doing more harm than good.

"So," he started, "there's somethin' I gotta tell you. Turns out Cammy and his wee boy've been makin' some business decisions on their own."

Catherine held her wet hair back and spat a glob of foam before rinsing her mouth. Her heart nearly leaped from her chest from a combination of excitement and anxiety. She was thrilled to hear Jimmy straight out admit the Hayes' were up to no good, though she still took what he said with a grain of salt. His track record of honesty wasn't exactly glowing.

"No shit. What've they been up to?"

Jimmy was a little hesitant to go into the whole truth, wanting to keep some of what they were doing close to the chest. But then maybe, in the end, this would end up working out in his favor as Dessie was still slightly skittish about trusting Cameron to come through. He knew she couldn't keep a business secret from her husband — if Dessie heard it straight from her, then maybe he'd see Jimmy's word was good.

"They've started sellin' off the Russian stock to some gangsters up north."

Catherine went lightheaded for a quick second. "Are you sure? Because if it's true, Dessie'll shite bricks, so he will. He didn't even want anythin' to do with the goddamn gun-running."

"I know that," Jimmy mildly snapped. "Which is precisely why you cannot tell him. It was difficult enough to convince him to sell us the stock, I don't think I'll be able to convince him to keep up his end of the deal."

"Aye," breathed Catherine. Out of caution, she lowered her voice. "The plan youse have for the Sons… do you have a new buyer yet?"

Wanting to hear what was on her mind, Jimmy indulged his curiosity and told her the truth. "Not yet. I'm meetin' with some blokes today though. That's why I wanted you to come along with me; I need this deal to work out, and for that to happen, I'm gonna need your goddamn delightful Irish charm."

"Oh, Jesus. By Irish charm ya don't mean my sparklin' personality," Catherine boosted her large breasts with her forearm, "you mean the lucky charms." While she giggled away, Jimmy furrowed his brow. He didn't find her joke nearly as funny as she did. Realizing that, she turned serious again. "Regardless, I promise I won't say anythin' to Dessie. We don't have another buyer for the hardware either, so if he drops you, we're gonna be left with a surplus of AK's and a deficit we cannot afford. Since the goal is to phase out the Sons, I'll help you secure a new buyer while I'm here. If we find someone I like, it shouldn't be too hard for me to sway Dessie. In return for my services, that means the True army'll owe ONH a favor."

Jimmy couldn't deny it was a sound plan. A plan that would take him longer than two minutes tops to come up with, nonetheless. If all she wanted in return was a measly favor, then it was a no-brainer. For Catherine, he would do whatever she needed him to do so she could be successful in ONH's campaign, no quid-pro-quo required.

"Done." Jumping off the vanity, Jimmy placed a hand on her hip and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "Thank you, a chuisle. And please, never again refer to your tits as lucky charms."

If she weren't so flustered by the kiss, Catherine would've punched his shoulder.

Without another word, Jimmy opened the door to leave. He bumped into Fiona. When she looked over his shoulder and saw Catherine wrapped only in a towel, she took a sharp breath, and her features hardened. Her reaction told Jimmy exactly what Fiona had on the brain.

"I kept my cock outta her!" he exclaimed, highly defensive.

Unsure of the context surrounding his outburst and not wanting to know anyway, Catherine didn't bother asking. As Jimmy trudged down the hallway, Catherine tried leaving the bathroom so she could get dressed. Fiona stood in the doorway, blocking the only way out.

Catherine gruffly said, "Don't get your knickers in a bunch. I let him in so we could talk about somethin', that's all."

Fiona couldn't care less about their bathroom rendezvous when there were other pressing matters.

"How much did you hear last night?"

She was talking about the small argument which had broken out between her and Jimmy sometime before midnight. A lot of nasty words were thrown around and Fiona had a feeling Catherine overhead many of them.

"Enough to know what you think of me. I didn't know there were so many words synonymous with the word whore."

It was somewhat self-satisfying for Catherine to watch Fiona become embarrassed. The name-calling was in the heat of the moment, although Fiona didn't feel very apologetic at all.

"It's not like you don't deserve it." Pushing thick ringlet curls out of her face, Fiona checked her watch. "I'm leavin' for St. Thomas in twenty so you'd better be ready."

"You go 'head without me," she said meekly. Catherine looked down to her feet, trying to figure out how she was going to explain this. "Jimmy needs my help with somethin'; he asked me about it last night. When we're done, he's gonna drop me off by St. Thomas so I can see Filip."

Resting her hands on her hips, Fiona viciously muttered, "That selfish, miserable prick." Her tone quickly softened. "Do you want me to talk to him? See if I can get ya out of it?"

After what she overheard last night, the last thing Catherine ever expected was Fiona to extend a line for help. She deeply appreciated the offer, but there was a small part of Catherine which was overly psyched to play interim adjutant for Jimmy.

A job she missed more than she would ever admit.

Catherine placed a light hand on Fiona's arm. "You go see him. It's been too long since youse were last together, the last thing you'll want is a third wheel."

Fiona took a deep breath, trying to bring solace to her jittery nerves. As much of a disdain she had for Catherine, knowing she'd have the younger woman with her in Chibs' room as a buffer was the one thing keeping her relatively calm. Catherine was right; it had been far too long since she last saw her estranged husband, and that was exactly why she didn't want to face him alone.

"I dunno..."

"You're the first one he asked about," blurted Catherine. "Whenever one of us reaches out, or when I'd come for business, the first thing he always wanted to know was how you and Kerri were doin'. It'll shock him to see you, but trust me, he'll be happy you came all this way."

"Ya think?"

"Aye; he still loves you, Auntie Fi."

Auntie Fi

Fiona took another sharp breath, the pressure of tears stinging her eyes. It had to have been nearly fifteen years since she heard Catherine last call her that. Catherine had dropped the 'auntie' title when Chibs left Belfast. Not knowing the truth, she had always blamed Fiona. She wondered what caused the sudden change of heart.

Exhaling with a groan, Fiona ran her hands down the front of her blouse. "Do I look okay? I feel like I packed way too casual."

Catherine softly chuckled, unsure if she'd ever seen Fiona so flustered. It was wholesome and sweet reminding Catherine of how she fussed over her hair, makeup, and clothes when she started dating Dessie. She couldn't even begin to imagine how much more exasperated the feeling was for Fiona.

"You're a bleedin' stunner. It's like you haven't aged a day since he left."

Fiona rolled her eyes knowing full well Catherine was only blowing smoke up her ass. "He gives you any trouble, you give me a bell."

Catherine told her she would, even though Fiona would be the last person she'd call in a pinch.

It was nothing personal. Catherine just preferred not to seek help from someone who referred to her as a prostitute.

And a tart.

A harlot.

Whore.

On second thought, Catherine realized, maybe it was a little personal after all.