Charming Pawse From NS to Out Chapt VII Cat's Gethsemane Pt 1

by wanderingchat

Cat arrives in Indianapolis and secures housing for herself and the Illinois Charter members that will be protecting her. Tig grows concerned when he learns that his father in law's medical equipment was tampered with in the hospital and urges Cat to use caution. 'Brownie' prepares to get his revenge. There are very hard times ahead for Cat.

The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists.

All original characters that are not part of the SOA universe are products of my own imagination. Any similarities to real persons are pure coincidence.

Dedicated in memory of my father.

Much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager.

Charming Pawse

From NS to Out

Chapter VII

Cat's Gethsemane

Part I

"A'right, men. We have a request from Mother," SinCityDopey announced.

His club members were sitting around their table in the chapel gazed expectantly at him. It had been a long time since SAMCRO had reached out to them. They wondered what the mother charter wanted with them.

"Ya know that Mother's officers are in lock up. The SAA's old lady is on her way to Naptown; seems her father's in bad shape. Clay has asked us and the Rockford charter to keep an eye out for her incognito," Dopey continued.

"Because of the Outlaws MC?" Grim Bastard huffed. "They've been pretty much castrated due to RICO!"

The men laughed over his joke while their Prez glared at them. When they settled down to some semblance of order he added, "A eunuch still has a dick, even if his balls have been cut off."

The men nodded in silent acknowledgement. "So we're goin' to be on babysittin' duty for one of Mother's old ladies," one of the riders grumbled. "That sucks."

"Clay wouldn't ask if it weren't important," Dopey growled, glaring at the outspoken patch wearer. "Her life's at risk from a stalker, but she has to be with her father. The stalker is a real asshole; the guy nearly killed her a few decades back."

"Man, that's some hard core hate!" Grim Bastard remarked.

"That's why Mother reached out to the closest charters. The reason for the incognito is because her father has idea that his daughter is married to an outlaw. He's a preacher," Dopey informed his club.

"Whoo - hoo!" The original grumbler chortled. "What's that old sayin' about preacher's kids bein' wild?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Dopey roared. "You're talkin' about a brother's wife!"

The other men nodded and murmured their acceptance of the situation. It wasn't the first time they'd been asked to guard a member's old lady without their colors, but it was the first and only time the Mother charter had given them such an honor.

"I'm lookin' for three volunteers," Dopey stated. "Who's up for the ride?"

Grim Bastard and Black Robbin immediately raised their hands. BZ, a beared, long haired biker who was their communications specialist, followed suit a second later.

"Good," Dopey nodded in satisfaction. "She's flyin' in Monday mornin' via Vegas and Chi."

"We meetin' her at O'Hare and takin' her down?" Black Robbin asked.

"No, Yum," Dopey replied. The biker was called 'Yum' due to the semblance between his name and a chain of successful gourmet hamburger outlets whose advertised slogan ended with 'Yum!'. "She's goin' on to Indy International from Chicago. You guys will ride on down to Naptown. SAMROC's gonna meet ya here."

"Any idea who they're sendin'?" BZ inquired.

"Not yet," Dopey explained. "I'm expectin' to hear from their Prez anytime."

"Hope they send Mudball, Cavey, and Shank," Grim Bastard murmured. "They're good men, especially in a fight."

"Not that we're plannin' on gettin' into one," Black Robbin hastily added.

"But it's always good to have good men at your back," BZ grinned.

Dopey snickered and banged the gavel to signal church was over. "You three wait with me, the rest of ya can get the Hell outta here!"

The other members of SAMCHI got up and ambled out to the bar for a drink and to find a girl to cuddle with. The three volunteers stayed in the chapel with their Prez for a briefing.

"Here's the deal, Awol will give ya travel money. Cat Trager is the SAMCRO SAA's wife. She's taken an apartment in downtown Indy where you're to meet up with her. Not sure what you guys are gonna do about accomodations, that's your problem," Dopey announced.

"I thought that story about Tig gettin' hitched was just a joke," Grim Bastard, who was often called 'GB', remarked. "Didn't think he would take the plunge a second time, much less hook up with a preacher's kid!"

"Don't let that fool ya," Dopey retorted. "This gal not only has book smarts, but she's street wise as well. It takes a Hell of a lot for a woman to earn Clay's respect."

"She must have somethin' goin' for her to keep Tig's interest!" Black Robbin snickered.

"You'll see for yourself."

A tap on the door prefaced Awol's return. He held an open flip phone in his hand. "SAMROC Prez for ya."

Dopey accepted the burner from his secretary and nodded at the safe in the corner of the chpael. Awol ambled over to it to gather the travel money for the trio while Dopey spoke with his Rockford counterpart. "OK, my boys will wait for your boys here, youse can all ride down to Naptown together," he replied after a few minutes. He closed the burner and laid it on the table. "You got Cavey, Mudball, and Shank. Tig wants one of ya to meet her at the hospital instead of the apartment building."

"Why?" BZ asked.

"Outlaws MC might not like a whole horde of us in their sector," Dopey explained. "Even if you're not wearin' patches. RICO cut a pretty good swath through the MC, but ya can't keep outlaws down forever. Plus there's some minor MCs there that might get their noses outta joint."

"But ya said we're goin' undercover!" GB remarked.

"Wouldn't you be suspicious if a half dozen bikers from Illinois suddenly showed up in your town for no reason?" Dopey retorted.

The trio exchanged glances. That would definitely arouse their suspicions. They would have to tread very carefully in the 'Crossroads of America'.

"Shit! This isn't goin' to be as easy as we first thought!" BZ muttered.

"You wanna back out, tell me now," Dopey growled. "That goes for alla youse."

The three looked at each other, nodded, and replied in unison, "Nah, we're good."

"How do we know who we're lookin' for?" Black Robbin added.

"She has a coffee shop in Charming," Awol explained while he passed out envelopes containing the travel funds. "The webpage is pulled up on the club computer. Her pic's on it. Problem solved."

"When will the SAMROC boys get here?" BZ asked.

"Later tonight. Since she's due in Naptown early tomorrow mornin', you'll have to travel overnight," Dopey advised.

"That works, should put us in town under cover of darkness," Grim noted.

"Yeah, less chance of pissin' off the local!" Yum added.

"Keep in contact, boys. Ride safe," Dopey dismissed them each with a quick, fierce hug.

---

Cat waited patiently in her seat next to the window while her fellow passengers scrambled into the narrow aisle the minute the 'Fasten Seatbelts' sign was turned off. What little forward momentum had started came to an abrupt halt as the passengers gathered their belongings from the overhead compartments.

'It's always the same at the end of a flight!' Cat snorted to herself, turning her gaze away from the aisle to the window. 'A bunch of asshats leap from their seats like their butts got zapped with an electric cattle prod, then block the aisle so no one else can move while they get their precious stuff!'

She was tired and fighting the start of a migraine. Jet lag from crossing time zones was adding to her ill temper so that her tolerance level for human behavior was lower than usual. The plane had just landed at O'Hare in Chicago, marking the last leg of her journey.

Not that she was looking forward to trading the large jumbo jet for a turbo prop that would take her to Indianapolis. She hated turbo props with a passion. They were small and cramped and the engines were noisier. 'It's just for an hour, and sure as Hell beats drivin'!' She reminded herself. The thought did little to boost her spirits.

She couldn't help comparing her present circumstances to the last air trip she'd taken with Alex. That had been on a non stop jet, and he'd done quite a bit to make the trip pleasurable for both of them. She smiled at the memory, but it held a hint of sadness. She missed his strong and quiet presence more than she'd anticipated.

Cat was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't realize the aisle had cleared beside her row. In fact, she was the only passenger left on the plane.

"Miss? Are you all right?" The Stewardess' voice cut into her reverie, startling her a bit.

Cat flushed and smiled reassuringly at the crew member. "Sure. Guess I was just wool gathering for a bit. Looks like the others cleared out."

"Yes, ma'am," the stewardess replied in a professionally friendly manner.

Cat slid across the row to stand in the vacant aisleway. She reached into the overhead compartment, retrieved her computer bag and followed the stewardess to the front of the cabin. "Thanks for the smooth ride," she murmured to the tired looking cabin crew before heading up the ramp that led to the terminal.

She had five hours to kill before her flight to Indy and very little to occupy her time until then. She was tired enough to want a nap, but wasn't up to the task of riding a cab to check in at a nearby hotel to do so. "I can nap just as well here instead of spendin' money I might need later," she muttered. "Less chance I'll miss my flight."

The airport wasn't busy at that hour of the night, which was one of the advantages of traveling so late. The disadvantage was that there were very few shops and restaurants open to occupy the down time between flights. Every vendor that Cat passed was dark and locked for the night. 'Looks like I might have to nibble on machine food!'

The idea wasn't really appealing. She hadn't eaten since dinner in Vegas. The airfare cost for what the airline considered a meal - a sandwich, potato chips, and a drink - hadn't seemed worth the extra cost. She'd already had to pay an extra fee to check her larger bag at the counter.

She was regretting that decision several hours later. Unfortunately, the vending machines were filled with salty and sugary snacks. She trudged wearily through the airport, making her way to the gate where her next flight was located. 'At least I've got plenty to time to get across the airport!' She brooded. The computer bag felt like a lead weight on her shoulder, so that she shifted it from one side to the other to get some relief.

Cat was so tired that she nearly passed an open coffee vendor. She backed up and stepped inside, enticed by the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. She gratefully placed the computer bag on a table and stood in front of the display case, deciding on what to purchase.

"Take your time, ma'am," the barista told her. "We just opened, and I'll be happy to warm up whatever pastry you order, unless it's frosted, of course."

Cat stifled the urge to roll her eyes at the barista's cheerful demeanor. She knew from experience how difficult it was to appear genuinely pleasant at an early hour of the morning. She pointed at a blueberry scone. "If you'd warm that up for me, it'd be appreciated."

"Sure!" The barista replied, grabbing a piece of wax paper and selecting the largest scone in the rack. She placed it in the convection oven and set the timer. "May I make a drink for you?"

"Why not?" Cat replied, placing her order for her usual favorite drink.

The barista poured the flavoring into a large take out cup and set the milk to steam while the measured amount of coffee seeped into shot glasses. The oven pinged, signaling the scone was ready. "Do you want to eat it here or take it with you?"

"Just put it in a bag for me, please," Cat instructed, digging her wallet from her back pocket.

The barista complied, placing the warm sack in front of her before turning to complete the drink. She poured the hot milk into the flavoring, stirred it, then added the coffee and stirred it again before placing a top on the cup and sliding it into a sleeve.

Cat quickly placed a couple of one dollar bills in the tip jar. The barista reminded her of her own employees, friendly without faking it and getting the job done efficiently.

The barista rang up Cat's purchases, then ran her debit card. "Do you need a receipt?"

"Nah, let's save a tree. There's an app for my bank that gives me a runnin' tally," she grinned.

"You've been traveling awhile," the barista observed, handing over Cat's debit card.

"It shows, eh?"

"You get to be able to know after working here awhile," the barista remarked. "People making a commuter hop keep their personal items close to them. You were relieved to put that bag on a table nearby, so it's obvious you've been carrying it awhile."

"Yeah, cross country. Indy's my last stop," Cat announced, slinging the bag back onto her shoulder. She picked up her cup and paper bag and nodded at the barista. "Have a good day."

"You too, ma'am."

Cat's steps were lighter as she walked away from the coffee vendor. It had been a pleasant encounter. The coffee cup felt good in her hand and her mouth watered from the smell of the warmed scone. She reached the departure gate at long last and easily found a comfortable chair near the ticket counter. She sank gratefully into it, placed her computer bag on the chair next to her, and dug into her meal.

The scone was soft inside with just the right texture outside. The blueberries were plump and juicy. 'The only thing missin' is a touch of white chocolate flavor to it!' She thought. The coffee drink was fresh, hot, and chased the fog from her mind.

She felt more relaxed when she'd finished eating and the migraine that had threatened earlier was gone. She threw her trash away, then settled into the chair, placing her hat over her eyes to shut out the light. The last thing she did before falling into a doze was to loop the strap of her computer bag around her arm for safe keeping.

---

Cavey, Mudball, and Shank had a similar conversation with their own president, but balked at the idea of riding up to Chicago to meet with SAMCHI.

"Why the fuck don't we meet up in Champaign and then ride in from there?" Mudball grumbled. "It's less wear on the rubber than goin' all the way up to Chi, then down to Indy!"

"True dat. It's a good half way point to meet up," Cavey remarked.

"Why don't ya call BZ and ask him? He's gonna be lead for SAMCHI," the Prez observed. "I hate bein' monkey in the middle!"

Cavey pulled his burner from his pocket and dialed the number he'd been given for BZ. "Hey, brother. Cavey 'ere. Gotta suggestion about meetin' up."

"Bet you're gonna suggest Bloomington as an alternative meeting place," BZ remarked.

"Precisely, guvner," Cavey laughed. The SAMROC rider was a born and bred British Columbian, but enjoyed injecting a British accent into his voice just to annoy his Yankee brethren. "It makes one 'Ell of a lot more sense than us ridin' all the way up there, then goin' down Indianapolis."

"I don't like I-65 anyway. The lands' too flat. Too much wind whips over the asphalt," BZ stated.

"Doesn't I-74 take us to our destination?" Cavey asked.

"Yeah. We can stretch our legs there, then make the trek along 74 to Indy. That should get us there in time to meet up with Tig's old lady," BZ replied. "Ya check out the website?"

"Yup. Not a bad lookin' bird for an older gal," Cavey remarked. "Kind of a surprise, that one."

"No shit, but Dope says she's earned Clay's respect, so she's got somethin' goin' for her," BZ advised him.

"Sounds like it. A'right then, guvner, where do you wanna 'ook up in Bloomington?" Cavey asked.

BZ conferred with his brothers, then suggested a truck stop parking lot off the interstate. "With all the trucks comin' and goin', no one's gonna pay much attention to a half dozen bikes. Good place to gas up and maybe get some grub." BZ provided the name of the truck stop.

"Sounds like a plan, we'll see you then," Cavey agreed before ending the call.

"OK, men," BZ remarked to his two travel companions. "That's all set. Go home, get your gear ready, take a nap. We'll meet back here at midnight."

Cavey issued similar instructions to his brothers. "We'll meet with SAMCHI in Bloomington then go forward from there. Meet back here at midnight."

---

Tig tried to go to sleep after his talk with Bobby, but sleep eluded him. Despite his cell mate's reassurances, he was concerned about his woman traveling cross country on her own. 'Hell, she traveled by truck on her own with the cats and her car on a trailer and nothin' happened. Why in Hell am I actin' like a fuckin' mother hen?'

Because he didn't trust planes. He wouldn't relax until he knew she was safe in Indianapolis, surrounded by his SAMROC and SAMCHI brothers.

'I hope pay phone bank is open first thing in the mornin',' he mused as he shifted position on the narrow upper bunk. 'I'll just some of Cat's muffins and call her instead of goin' to breakfast.' That decision freed his mind from his worries, enabling him to relax enough to go to sleep. All too soon, the brash noise of the buzzers and the sudden bright overhead lights told him it was time to wake up. His eyes felt gritty and burned from a lack of sleep. He sat up and groaned, sheilding his eyes against the light.

"Rough night," Bobby observed through a yawn.

"Yeah." Tig moaned. "Couldn't get to sleep for awhile. Gonna go to the payphone and see if I can reach my girl."

"You're gonna miss breakfast?"

"What's to miss?" Tig shrugged, sliding to the floor from his bunk. "I'll just munch on one of the muffins."

"You won't get any coffee," Bobby replied.

"This place's miserable excuse for coffee tastes more like somebody melted a brown crayon in hot piss," Tig snorted. "I'll make up for it at lunch."

"You'll be in a foul mood by then, brother. Caffeine withdrawal can be a bitch."

"So can not knowin' if your woman is OK when she's thousands of miles up in the air!" Tig muttered.

"Think about this for a minute, Tig. I know ya wanna make sure she's safe, but there is a three hour time difference!"

"So?"

"The plane from Chicago is prolly just gettin' to the gate. She's gonna be tied up with gettin' off it and gettin' to baggage claim. Give her time to get oriented, man!" Bobby explained.

Tig thought that over. He'd hate to get Cat's voice mail. That would likely be the case if she hadn't had time to turn on her cell and that would put him in a foul mood. "I guess you're right," he agreed reluctantly just as their cell door slid open.

Bobby threw an arm around his cell mate and led him from their small accomodations. "Trust me, brother. You'll be better off waitin' to talk to her, instead of leavin' her a message!" He grinned slyly and added, "And so will the rest of us!"

"Ah, fuck off!" Tig growled good naturedly, shaking Bobby's arm off his shoulder. "I'm not that bad!"

"Shit!" Bobby muttered as they joined the line to the cafeteria. "You're worse than a lion with a thorn in it's paw!"

Clay overheard their conversation from his place in line ahead of them. He nudged Juice and nodded his head back at Tig. "He woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he murmured.

"There's more than one side to his bed?" Juice asked. "Lucky dog!"

---

The night shift at Good Samaritan was finishing up the workload as the day shift prepared to take over at 7AM. The nursing staff worked 12 hour shifts as opposed to 8 hour ones, so that shift changes only happened twice a day. Some beancounter in a suit determined it was more cost effective to have two shifts of employees as opposed to four, though the care staff believed otherwise. There were fewer employees to cover the patient needs, especially at night.

The night nurse on Blaine Marshall's floor had been forced to cover the entire census with only one CNA to help her. She'd managed to keep up with the medication schedule, but she'd been hard pressed to do so. By the time she got a chance to check on Rev. Marshall's IV, the bi - pap hose had been loose for over half an hour and his oxygen saturation level had dipped below 90% again.

The nurse frowned at the monitor, as it an alarm was supposed to go off along with a red light anytime the level dropped below 90%. The red light was on, but the alarm was silent. The nurse inspected the machine and found that the hose had come loose again. She also discovered that the alarm had been disconnected from the monitor.

'Someone has been tampering with this equipment!' She thought angrily. 'There's no way the patient could've done this!' She watched as the monitor showed an immediate improvement in the minister's oxygen saturation level. She turned away from the bed, intent on making sure the day shift was aware of the problem and noted it on his chart and transfer information.

The patient seemed to be resting comfortably, though there was a worried frown on his face. The nurse was aware that he was being kept sedated in order to remain calm and to insure he would be comfortable during the ambulance ride to Indianapolis.

'I still feel he should be airlifted!' She thought angrily. "It'd take less time and be less stressful for him. Blasted insurance carriers are making things too difficult for the patients!'

She lay a comforting hand on the minister's head, noting that his skin was dry but not overly warm. Rev. Marshall was still running a slight bit of temperature, but nothing as alarmingly high as when he was admitted. 'Maybe he'll improve at the specialty hospital.' She patted his cheek and whispered, "God go with you, Rev. Marshall."

She hurried to the nurses' station to issue her report to the shift supervisor. "I think we should advise the specialty hospital that the bi - pap machine was tampered with," she concluded.

"Who could be doing such a thing?" The supervisor frowned.

"It's hard to tell. People can tend to come and go as they please around here, no one challenges employees, including the janitorial staff. Maybe we should have a copy of their schedule and assignements so we know who's supposed to be where," the nurse replied.

"If we did that, we'd have to have the schedules for every department. The hospital administration won't stand for that." The supervisor held up her hand to prevent the RN's protest. "I understand your concern, and if Rev. Marshall were staying with us, I'd make the suggestion. Since he's transfering today, there's no reason to believe anyone else on this floor is endangered."

"I still feel we should let the specialty hospital know of my suspicions, just in case," the RN insisted.

"And we'll do that. It might not be necessary, but we'd best err on the side of caution," the supervisor agreed.

"And we should also alert his daughter to the tampering," the RN insisted.

"Why? Rev. Marshall will be transferring from here, and it's likely the tampering won't happen any more."

'Are you really that dumb, or do you work to be that way?' The RN thought to herself. Her consternation must've shown on her face, as the supervisor inquired, "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do," the RN retorted. "His daughter needs to know that someone has been tampering with her father's equipment. Maybe it won't continue at the speciality hospital, but she has a right to know!"

The supervisor shook her head. "You're right. It was a rough night on the floor below. I wasn't thinking straight. Why don't you call Mrs. Trager while I give the report to the day shift?"

'That's more like it!' The RN observed, reaching for the phone on the desk to make the call.

---

The turbo prop taxied slowly to its' assigned gate while the few passengers inside prepared to disembark. Unlike the earlier jumbo jet, the smaller plane didn't offer much overhead storage. Any carry on bags that couldn't fit under the seats had to go into the cargo bay. Between the overhead compartment issue and the few passengers occupying the cabin, exiting wasn't going to be such a chore for Cat. 'I imagine this thing will be packed like a sardine can goin' back to Chi!' She thought wryly, grabbing her computer bag from under her seat. She followed the other passengers onto the ramp and on into the terminal.

She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and turned it on to check the time. 'Now I wish I hadn't done that!' She winced, slipping the phone back into her pocket. The rental car agency wouldn't be open for another couple of hours. Plenty of time to get to the baggage claim area and find a place to sit and wait again. She felt like she'd earned a doctorate in 'hurry up and wait'.

She walked past several restaurants and food kiosks, but she didn't stop to buy a meal. The scone had satisfied her hunger pangs and she wasn't needing any caffiene. She found the carousel where her large bag was waiting for her to collect it, then she wandered to the car rental agency desks to wait to get the car she'd reserved.

She'd just gotten settled in a chair when the cell rang. She glanced at the caller ID and frowned when she saw that it was the nurse's station for her father's floor at Good Samaritan Hospital. 'I hope this isn't bad news!'

"We still plan to transfer your father to the specialty hospital today," the nurse assured her after explaining the reason for the call. "I just felt you should know about the tampering that occurred last night."

"Any idea how long the monitor was turned off and the hose left loose?"

"I can't say, Mrs. Trager," the RN states apologetically.

"Doesn't the doctor think that the periods of tampering was harmful to him?"

"If he did, we wouldn't be making the transfer," the RN replied curtly.

"Look, lady! I'm just askin' because I'm worried for him! Frank, I think the sooner he's outta there the better!" Cat snarled.

"I understand your concern, Mrs. Trager, but this appears to have been an isolated incident."

"Are y'all nuts?" She growled. "What about that so - called seizure y'all said he had the other night?"

"What about it?"

'Oh for fuck's sake!' She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Doesn't it seem strange to all y'all that the bi - pap hose was messed up several times, and now the alarm was shut off? Seems obvious to me that someone there is goin' to great lengths to keep him from leavin'!"

The nurse remained silent, reviewing Cat's statement. "You may have a point there."

"I'm also beginnin' to think that the seizure wasn't just reaction to a bad dream and mistakin' the janitor in bad light!"

"But the hose continued to come loose after the janitor was transferred to a different shift and floor!" The RN protested.

"That doesn't mean a damn thing!" Cat snarled. "As I recall, people could come and go around there any time they wanted without bein' challenged, especially after visitin' hours. Guess things haven't changed too much!"

"At the time of the incident, we - the medical staff - based our opinion on the facts of the situation as we saw it," the RN explained. "Obviously we didn't have all the facts at hand. We also believe he'll be safer at the specialty hospital, well away from whoever has been trying to harm him."

"At least we agree on that!" Cat exhaled. "I want that janitor that upset him questioned about his whereabouts last night."

"Whyever for?"

"Somethin' about that man upset Daddy that night. He's never been the type to fly off the handle like y'all said he did. Not without a damn good reason, and bein' sick has nothin' to do with it. Besides, if he'd had some kind of a seizure, wouldn't the tests have come back differently than they did?"

"I see what you mean," the RN reluctantly agreed. "I'll pass your request on to my supervisor and his doctor, but I don't want to get your hopes up. They may feel such a follow up won't be necessary."

"If they give y'all any flack about it, have 'em call me. I'll make 'em see the light," Cat promised darkly.

"I'll certainly keep that in mind," the RN agreed.

Cat stuff her phone back in her pocket and stared at the display above the rental counter without really seeing it. Her mind was whirling around one question. Who on earth in Vincennes would want to hurt her father enough to sabotage his breathing machine?

'There's only one other person alive who want to harm him, and I haven't seen the bastard in years!' Cat thought to herself. 'Surely he wouldn't - '

Her thoughts turned back to a conversation she and Bill had with her father a few years after they married. They were visiting for Christmas, and he had taken them aside to advise them of a strange call he'd received a few days before their visit.

---

Dawn shook her sore hand and glared at the paper she was writing on. The pages were full of her attempts to copy her step - mother's signature. She wasn't satisfied at all with any of them. 'The problem is that she doesn't lift the pen from the paper when she signs anything! She just makes one long scrawl and that's hard to duplicate!'

She glanced up at the clock and grimaced. She had to open the kiosk in the morning with Jaci, and it was past one in the morning. 'I'm not goin' to get much sleep, especially since I have to get up to let the damn cats into the garage!'

She glanced at the Siamese sleeping in her lap and decided to go ahead with opening the cat run before she went to bed. 'What's the worse that could happen? They eat some grass in the backyard? Cats like grass anyway. It'll allow me to get some extra snooze time!'

She gathered all the crumpled papers and shoved them into the bottom of the trash can so Tina wouldn't notice them when she cleaned. Then she slipped the registration to the Challenger and the practice pad in the center drawer. 'Tina won't have any reason to look in there, so that shit will be safe!' She shoved Ming off her lap and stood up, weaving a bit from the prolonged sitting.

"MEOWTCH!" Ming cried irritably over his unceremonious removal from his comfortable sleeping spot.

"I know it sounds dumb, kitty, but it's time to get up to go to bed," Dawn replied. She bent to stroke the cat, but he marched away with his tail and nose stuck disdainfully in the air. "OK, be that way!"

She walked to the kitchen and opened the cat run door, then returned to her bedroom, turning off lights as she went. Ebony and Misty were sound asleep on the bed in the master bedroom. Misty curled up on a shirt that Cat had left out for that purpose.

'Jesus!' Dawn shook her head in disdain and changed into her nightclothes. She set her alarm for an hour before she had to be at work and turned off the light. She was asleep within minutes.

Once the house was quiet, Ming stole into her room and curled up on the foot of the bed. He stretched his beige body along Dawn's side, snuggling into position until he felt comfortable.

Hours later, Ebony sensed that something was different about the house. He could smell tempting scents coming from the cat run. He leapt from the bed and crept silently towards the kitchen and the garage door. The cat door was unlocked!

That was highly unusual. Generally the cat run and door remained closed until it was time for him and his siblings to run to the coffeehouse. The smells tickling his nose aroused his curiosity. He could smell the usual scents from the garage that didn't interest him. The gasoline and oil smells made his nose itch. What interested him was the smell of the outdoors that tempted him all the time! There was grass, and dew, and the unmistakable smell of bird. It was too much for him to ignore, and he crept through the door and on out into the fenced in area.

He shook his paws free of dew and hunkered down to eat some of the sweet grass. Most of the time he never got to eat grass with dew on it, so this was a definite rare treat. His ears pricked forward as the sound of a bird hopping along the top of the run reached them. He lifted his nose in the air and sniffed. Definitely bird. It made his mouth water. He crept along the fenced in area until he was even with the bird. He tensed his muscles and sprang, hitting his head against the top of the fence and sending the bird squawking and flying away.

Ebony sniffed in disdain, informing that dirty old bird he wasn't interested in it anyway. He prowled along the fenced in area, stopping to smell something here and inspect an interesting smell there. After awhile, he decided to try to find a way out of the fenced in area so he could explore, and began pawing and nosing at the circular mesh, looking for an escape.

---

"You've got to be kidding me!" Rev. Marshall's doctor exploded.

"No, sir. Mrs. Trager was quite serious. She seems to feel that her father had a good reason to be so upset by his presence the other night," the RN who'd conferred with Cat about the equipment tampering explained. "She believes there is a connection between her father's seizure, the janitor's presence when it happened, and the tampering with the monitor alarm."

"Do we even know who was assigned to the floor that night?" The doctor protested. He skimmed through the incident report the RN had written.

"It would be in the incident report in Rev. Marshall's file," she replied.

The doctor opened the computer record and scrolled through the entries until he came to the one about the patient's seizure. "Most families don't take such an active role in a patient's recovery," he muttered. "But she's been right on the ball every time we've dealt with her. She definitely knows his medical history better than we do!" He skimmed through the incident report until he found the reference to the janitor. He wrote down the name and stuffed the paper in his pocket.

"Forward a copy of that incident report and the current one to the hospital administrator. I'll sign off on the email requesting the investigation," he instructed the RN.

She pointed to the draft folder in the email program. "It's waiting for your electronic signature, Doctor. I took the liberty of preparing the request in advance."

"Proving that this janitor had anything to do with the tampered equipment is going to be difficult," the doctor advised the RN. "We don't have security monitoring of the patient rooms, much less the floor."

"Maybe that's something that should change," the RN murmured.

"From your mouth to the CEO's ears," the doctor sighed. "I doubt it'll happen before we retire."

---

"The call came from the current minister serving Carlisle United Methodist Church," Blaine explained. "He said he'd received a call from a friend who'd worked with you in Terre Haute and was looking for you."

"Why would a former co - worker call there lookin' for me? Y'all haven't lived there for years!" Cat frowned.

"Not to mention you've been semi - retired since we got married!" Bill added.

"Likely because that was where I served while you were in radio, Honey," her father explained reasonably. "I called the telephone number the minister gave me, which turned out to be the Carlisle Inn."

"Isn't that the hotel that was built after the prison was constructed?" Cat inquired.

"The same. The front desk person put me right through to the caller, whose name was 'Guido'."

Cat's frown increased in intensity. "Doesn't ring a bell at all," she muttered. "No one I worked with went by that moniker."

"Could it be their on - air name?" Bill asked.

"No, Pookie," Cat shook her head in denial. "I worked with Bobs', Rons', Shawns', a Frost, an Elizabeth, but no 'Guidos'."

"Not even at the ISU or VU stations?" Bill insisted.

"Nada," She turned her attention back to her father and added, "What exactly did all y'all talk about?"

"He wanted to know what town I lived in now, but I refused to be specific and countered by asking why he was looking for you," Blaine replied.

Cat felt as if the temprature in her father's living room had suddenly dropped 30 degrees. Goosebumps broke out on her arms and the hair stood up at the back of her neck. There was something sinister about the mysterious 'Guido' reaching out to her father, and the fact that he had been staying in Carlisle - where she'd once lived with her parents - nagged at her. "What did he tell you?"

"All he would tell me was that he was a former co - worker of yours, had lost track of you, and wanted to get back in touch with you," Blaine replied. "I told him you were happily married and living in Indianapolis. I offered to take his telephone number to give to you so you could follow up with him if you wanted."

"What did he say to that?" Bill inquired.

"He hung up."

"That doesn't sound good," Cat observed dryly. "It sounds like someone was fishin' for intel."

"I got that impression," her father stated flatly. "I wonder now if it was a mistake to tell him you live in Indianapolis."

"Whoever he is would have a Hell of a hard time findin' me," Cat snorted. "Y'all didn't tell him my married name or anything else that would help him."

"If anyone ever calls looking for Cat again, I'd suggest you handle it the same way," Bill assured his father in law. "Let the idiot chase his own tail."

The family enjoyed the rest of their holiday visit, but the strange telephone call lingered at the back of Cat's mind the entire time. As Bill drove them back home via Terre Haute, she insisted that they make a stop at the Carlisle Inn.

"Why? The guy's probably long gone by now." Bill queried.

"True, but I've got a bad feelin' about this 'Guido' character," Cat explained. "I want to ask the desk clerk a few questions about him. We just passed Oaktown, and that's just a little too close to Carlisle for my taste."

Bill turned to glance at his wife. Though it was pitch dark, he could see by the dashboard light that her jaw was clenched and her face held a worried expression.

"You think it was him, don't you?"

"There's only way to find out," Cat murmured darkly.

"But the same clerk might not be working tonight!" He protested.

She answered him with 'The Look', which was as potent in the dark as it was in broad daylight. Bill sighed in resignation, slowed the Dodge Shadow and signaled the right hand turn. "You're not going to be happy until you check this out," he muttered.

"Damn straight!"

He pulled the car to a stop in front of the office door. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

"Nah. Keep the motor runnin' and stay warm. This won't take long," she replied with a casual ease she didn't feel and strode into the lobby. The clerk on duty lifted one finger to indicate she'd assist the newcomer in a moment. The clerk was talking on the phone to a potential customer. Cat waited patiently for the clerk to complete the call, glancing around the small lobby.

'There's no cameras in sight, but that doesn't mean the counter's not under surveillance. I doubt the management keeps the tapes long unless there's a need.'

The clerk completed the call and looked up at Cat, pasting the professional helpful smile on her face.

"Happy Christmas, though it probably sucks to have to work the holiday," Cat stated amiably to the clerk. "Done a few Christmas duties in my time."

"It's not too bad," the clerk replied in a more friendly manner. "I got to spend most of the day with my family. How can I help you?"

Cat explained her reason for stopping in. "I was hopin' that y'all were workin' that night."

"I was," the clerk acknowledged. "But I'm afraid that gentleman checked out several days ago."

"I figured as such. Did he fill out a registration of any kind?"

The clerk nodded and reached for a plastic card box. She searched through the cards until she found the one she was looking for and set it on the counter in front of Cat. "This is everything he gave us."

"Did he pay in cash? Did he walk in or did someone drop him off?" Cat inquired before she began copying the information written on the card. Though it had been years since she'd seen it, she recognized the handwriting as belonging to the man she'd loved and who'd betrayed her.

"He just walked in, plunked down a wad of cash, and asked for a room," the clerk recalled.

"Could you describe him for me, please?" She was surprised that her voice was steady. Her insides felt like gelatin.

Her worse fear was confirmed as the clerk described the mysterious 'Guido'. "He was very tall, maybe over six foot. He had long, dark brown hair, a goatee and a long mustache. His voice was low and rough, like someone who'd smoked too many cigarettes. He was also very thin and wore these very dark glasses. I initially thought he might've been blind except he didn't carry one of those canes or have a guide dog."

'That's him, all right!' Cat thought in dismay. "How long did he stay?"

"Not long. He made the one local call, then placed the long distance call you mentioned. The next day, he made a couple of long distance calls and then checked out."

"Did he ask y'all where the incoming call originated?"

"Yes, ma'am. But I couldn't tell him; we don't have caller ID," the clerk informed her.

Cat slid the registration card back across the counter, reached for her wallet, and pulled out a ten dollar bill. She placed that on top of the card and stuffed the information she'd copied into her pocket. "I appreciate your time and the information," she stated as she strode to the door.

"Have a safe trip, ma'am."

Cat lifted a hand in farewell as she opened the door and hastened to the idling Dodge. She slid into the passenger seat, closed the door, and growled, "Let's get the Hell out of here!"

Bill didn't ask any questions. He could tell by the tone of his wife's voice that the news wasn't good. He put the car in gear and piloted back onto the federal highway. 'Looks like we'd better think about buyin' that house after all!'

Cat's thoughts moved forward in time to just after her father's birthday. He'd been sharing strange happenings around the house with her during their daily phone conversations. The phone ringing and nobody answering, while the caller ID showed a blocked number; A tall figure standing outside the property line, staring at the house at different times of the day; signs that the mail had been examined before he retrieved it from the box.

"How can you tell that?" Cat inquired.

"I asked the post office to put a rubber band around the mail so I could carry it into the house more easily," her father explained. "The rubber band has been removed and left in the mailbox. The delivery person wouldn't do that, now would they?"

Cat thought on that for a moment then replied, "No, it wouldn't make any sense for them to leave the rubber band in the box if they were removin' it in the first place."

"That's why I think someone is deliberately going through my mail, Honey. I also think it might be that guy who was looking for you."

Cat's heart froze. She'd hoped to never have to worry her father with the news, but now it was becoming apparent. "It is that guy, Daddy, and his name isn't 'Guido'. It's Cory."

"Cory?"

"We also called him 'Brownie'."

"The person who tried to kill you?" Her father exclaimed.

"I'm afraid so, Daddy. Bill and I stopped at the Carlisle Inn on our way home at Christmas. The clerk described him to me, and it matched 'Brownie'. I'd suggest you get a restrainin' order on him."

"I need to have an address for that," her father replied. "He doesn't tend to let the grass grow under his feet."

"True, but y'all can use the grandparents' and his parents' addresses," Cat insisted. "The cops will be aware that you're bein' harassed, and will keep an eye out for him. If he keeps comin' around, they can apprehend him."

"Maybe it'll make an impression on him," her father remarked.

'I have a feelin' he knew that the chances of that were slim and none,' Cat observed ruefully to herself. With the two addresses she'd provided being so far apart, her father's lawyer managed to get a restraining order that covered the entire county. That made Cat feel less worried about her father's safety until the nurse's discovery.

'I forgot that he's a frackin' chameleon and willin' to change his appearance as well as his name! He's the type that wouldn't let a little piece of legal paper scare him off!' Cat remonstrated inwardly. 'Guess I shouldn't be hard on myself. It's only natural to want to put someone like that out of one's mind. 'Brownie' would be the type to go after somebody I love to make me miserable!'

---

Ebony snorted in annoyance. He'd dug holes in several places along the mesh enclosure, but the only thing he'd succeeded in doing was getting dirt caught between his paw pads. He'd made no headway in escaping. He sat down with his tail stuck straight out behind him, and began cleaning the dirt clogging the pads on his front paws, flexing them so that he could work out the clots.

Once his front paws were clean and clear, he yawned mightily. The work had tired him, but he still didn't want to go inside. Neither his timid sister nor his brother had ventured outside. Ebony figured they preferred the indoor life. He snorted again and groomed his face with his tongue and his paw.

He had once been an outdoor cat, and he fondly recalled the days when he could roam free around the neighborhood, getting into all kinds of mischief. That was before he'd been turned over to the no kill pet shelter because his owners couldn't keep him anymore. He'd been angry and hurt, hissing and snarling at anyone who approached his cage. He missed his family and didn't want to be taken away in case they came back for him. He wondered why all those strange people gawking at him from the other side of the cage didn't understand that!

Then his new furever purrson came to the shelter, and was drawn to his cage. He had backed up against the far wall, hissing and snarling with his ears flat on his head and all his claws extended. His puffed up tail should've also warned her away from him.

The woman looked at the placard on his cage, which showed he had been left at the shelter but was unfriendly and due to be euthanized in another day. She had turned to the man with her and stated, "That's the one. He needs us, Pookie."

"But look at him, dear! He's about ready to attack us through the cage!" The man protested.

"You'd be ready to attack too, if someone had dropped you off someplace strange and left you!" The woman retorted.

To Ebony's surprise, the woman placed her hand against the steel mesh of the cage. "Poor baby. You're scared and frightened. Would you like to come home with us?"

There was something about the woman's tone of voice that soothed him. His ears perked forward and his pupils dilated while his tail reduced in size. He took a careful step towards her hand, then another one, sniffing the air for any signs of danger.

"Come on, big fella. You're such a pretty kitty," she crooned soothingly to him, her hand still in place on the wire.

Ebony moved forward step by careful step until his nose pressed against her hand and sniffed cautiously. She smelled of other cats, which should've made him mad, but it was actually comforting. He licked her palm and began purring.

"See?" She turned a triumphant look on the man. "All he needed was a little reassurance!" She stuck a finger through the mesh and massaged his forehead.

Ebony purred more and rubbed his nose against her finger. The couple took him home that day, but forbade him from going outside.

"You're an 'in kitty' now. It's safer for you, old sock," the woman, who was called 'Cat' at times by the male she called 'Pookie', explained to him. "There's too many big dogs and cars around that could hurt you."

That hadn't stopped him from trying, and it became a continual battle for supremacy between him and the humans. They always won the battle, until that night. He huffed in frustration to have his heart's desire so close to him, and yet so far. He yawned again, but wasn't about to go inside. He found a cozy spot near the entrance to the coffeehouse and curled up in a ball of fur to sleep, secure in the light of the silvery moonbeam that shone on his coat.

---

Blaine Marshall continued to drift between full consciousness and sleep during the day of his transfer. He was conscious of the night RN's presence when she checked his IV and took his readings. He also heard her surprise over the tampering that 'Brownie' had done to the alarm on his bi - pap machine. He wanted to tell her who was responsible, but he couldn't move or speak from the powerful sedation. 'At last! Somebody realizes that something isn't kosher!'

He felt safe for the first time since 'Brownie' had appeared at his bedside. He knew from the flurry of activity around him that the medical personnel were checking him over, making sure that he hadn't suffered any ill effects from the loose air hose.

"Well, Rev. Marshall, this time tomorrow you'll be in different room and city," the day shift nursing assistant murmured as she gave him a sponge bath. "We'll make you all nice and clean and put you in a clean gown for the trip!"

He felt the momentary cool wetness of the sponge over his skin. He wished the medical personnel would shave his face. 'I hate not being clean shaven! Cat's never seen me with more than a five o'clock shadow!'

The nurses' aide continued to talk to him about seeing his daughter and how the new hospital would make him well while she dried his body, applied lotion to the broken out areas of his skin, and put a new gown on him. "Your hair's a little mussed, let me see if you brought a comb, and we'll comb out your hair," she added, searching the bedside drawer for his personal items. She found a comb and smoothed down the silver white hair. "I'm afraid a shave is out of the question, Rev. Marshall," the aide stated in an apologetic manner. "We can't work around the mask, and the doctor doesn't want you taken off of the machine until transfer time."

He sighed inwardly in disappointment, but he felt better for the bath. 'Thank you,' he thought.

"Now you just relax; I've got to pack all your things to take with you. Not that you have a lot, but I'm sure you want them."

The aide carefully folded his clothes and placed them in the bottom of a plastic bag that had his name written on it. She added his comb, and the skin cream his friend had brought over for his rash. "We'll give you your medicines before you leave, and I'll have to get your wallet and cell phone out of the safe," she explained, placing the bag on the chair next to the door.

Rev. Marshall could hear the floor's daytime routine while he drifted in and out of sleep. The nursing aide returned to his room accompanied by his friend who'd come to see him off.

"Can he hear me?" Mac inquired softly.

"We believe he can. We talk to him when we're in here with him," the aide assured him. She carried the patient's wallet and cell phone in her hands.

"Do you folks want me to take those home for him? I have a key to his house because I mow the lawn for him," Mac offered.

The aide couldn't help being surprised. Mac appeared to be older than her patient. 'He does the lawn? I hope I'm in such good shape when I'm that age!'

Mac grinned at the aide's reaction. "He has a riding mower, not a lot of effort to expend. Helps keep me young, though."

The aide grinned and handed the items to Mac. "If you don't mind taking these home for him, I'm sure his daughter would appreciate it. All his ID information is on his wristband, so the specialty hospital won't need his driver's license."

Mac accepted the items and placed them in the inner pocket of his jacket. He pulled a chair close to Blaine's bed and sat looking at his friend. The television hanging from the ceiling was tuned to a family oriented channel. He could barely hear the audio coming from the combined speaker/bed control/call device laying near the patient's head. "Perry Mason's on, you always like that," Mac observed. "Guess you can hear it, though how with just one hearing aid is beyond me. I looked all over the house and didn't find it."

He glanced at his friend's face, not liking how pale Blaine looked. "You need a shave, old friend. Guess they can't do that with that mask on your face. It's not bad," he hastened to assure the minister. "You have to really look for the whiskers."

Mac folded his hands over his chest and listened to his friend's breathing. It was hard to tell through the rush of air from the bi - pap machine whether Blaine's breathing was better since his admission. Mac had come to the hospital to visit every day since Blaine had been admitted. His hope had been that his friend would be transferred to the nursing home and eventually home as usual. The set back caused by the seizure had worried him immensely.

'Now they're sendin' him hours away for more treatment. Maybe it's a good thing, considerin' that the equipment's been tampered with!' He thought, gazing momentarily at the monitors. It chilled him to think that someone wanted to cause harm to his friend.

"Your little girl's already makin' the fur fly, Blaine," Mac sighed. "She wants that janitor checked out and the hospital's goin' to do it!" Mac frowned and added, "But who in Sam Hill would want to hurt you? The only person I can think of is your ex, but she's been dead for months!"

He leaned forward to watch his friend's face. He thought he noticed the minister's eyes blink furiously. 'Must've been a trick of the light or somethin'. They've got him pretty well doped up.' He placed a hand on his friend's arm and patted it awkwardly. "Well, they'll make you better and you'll be safer there than here from the sounds of things."

He looked up as the sound of footsteps and the squeak of wheels approached the room. Two orderlies and a nurse appeared in the doorway. "I'm afraid it's time," she stated gently to Mac.

"I'll get out of your way, then," Mac replied, rising stiffly from the chair and replacing it near the wall. He stood at the foot of the bed for a moment. "I hope to get up there to see you, and you're not to worry about anything but gettin' well. Give Cat my love when you see her later." Mac slipped out of the room and headed on down the hall. He didn't want to watch the transfer process. 'I'd just be in the way, anyway.'

The orderlies moved the gurney near the bed, then carefully lifted the patient onto it. The nurse covered him with a sheet and blanket, then placed his bag of personal items between his legs. The bi - pap mask was removed from his face while one of the orderlies placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. The nurse checked his vital signs, made an adjustment to the oxygen flow, and then nodded. "We're all set."

The orderlies manuvered the gurney out of the room and on down the hall to the service elevator. The nurse followed behind the gurney. She would accompany the patient as far as the ambulance. An EMT would ride in the patient bay with Rev. Marshall.

As the gurney passed the nurses' station, the medical staff called out farewells and their good wishes to the patient. The nurse picked up the print out of his charts that would make the transfer with him, though they would send an electronic copy to the specialty hospital. The hard copy was for the EMTs and also a precaution in case the file didn't download.

---

The sun was beginning to crawl above the horizon when Pete pulled into the Trager's driveway with the PT. His car was still parked on the street in front of the house, which was dark and closed off for the night. 'Dawn's supposed to open at the kiosk today; guess she's still asleep. I hate to wake her, but it's the best time to tell her I'm going to take care of the cats. I just don't trust her with their welfare.'

He decided to delay waking Dawn in order to get the morning routine at 'Charming Pawse' under way. He got the various blends, including the clubs' favorite whiskey blend, brewing in the large pots that had replaced the single 'brewmaster' and removed the various frozen treats to thaw.

'I'll heat these up after I talk to Dawn and feed the critters,' he thought to himself. He turned on the back light, opened the door, and stepped outside. He allowed the door to close and lock behind him before opening the gate to the fence that separated the back loading area of the coffeehouse and the Trager's home. He frowned when he heard a sleepy "MEOW!" issue from the cat run.

"What on Earth?" Pete squatted beside the cat run and squinted in the dim light. "Ebony? What the Hell are you doing outside?"

"MEOWT!" Ebony announced, rising from the dewey ground and stretching luxuriously.

"Yes, I can see that you're out. You shouldn't be out at this time of day, and I have a feeling you've been out all night!" Pete replied. "I hope your siblings are in the house where they belong!"

"ME - EAT!" Ebony cried.

"I'll feed you after I check on the other two," Pete reassured the hungry feline. "I promise." The cat room had a stock of canned and dry food for the cats, in case they got hungry during their time at the coffeehouse.

Pete walked across the yard, fuming at this latest example of Dawn's total disrespect for his employer. 'I knew she couldn't be trusted on her own! This is going to hurt Miss Cat!'

He knocked on the back door and waited a few seconds before knocking louder. He waited a reasonable time and pounded on the door. When there was still no answer, he removed his key to the back door, unlocked it, and stepped inside.

Ebony rushed into the kitchen from the outdoors, in hopes of getting his breakfast. "ME - EAT!" He yowled, rubbing against Pete's leg.

It was obvious that Dawn had left the door to the cat run open overnight. 'She didn't want to be bothered letting them out at the right time!' He fumed inwardly, bending down to pet the large black feline reassuringly. Ebony's plaintive howls brought the other two cats racing into the kitchen. They stopped in front of their empty bowls and gazed indignantly up at Pete. Their expressions plainly stated, "Well? What are you going to do about this?"

"I know kitties. It's hard to get good help," he murmured laughingly, giving the other two encouraging pats. "I'll take care of you shortly." He straightened up and yelled, "Hey, Dawn! It's Pete! We need to talk!"

"You don't have to yell!" She complained, stumbling sleepily into the kitchen. "Too damn much noise goin' on in here! It's too fuckin' early for this shit!" She blinked in surprise and took a step back. "What the fuck are you doin' in here, anyway?"

"Taking care of the cats," Pete retorted dryly. "It's obvious that you can't do it."

"How'd you get in here?" She cried angrily.

"Miss Cat gave me a key a long time ago. It's a damn good thing she did! Ebony was out all night because you were too damn lazy to get up to let them out at the right time!" Pete stated reproachfully.

"You can't talk to me that way! Not in my house!" Dawn snarled.

"This isn't your house," Pete coolly pointed out. "This is Miss Cat's and Mr. Tig's house. You're a guest."

"You still can't talk to me that way!" Dawn retorted shrilly.

"When it comes to something like this, I can and I have!"

"I'll tell!"

Pete crossed his arms across his chest and smiled grimly. "Really? There's nothing that Mr. Tig can do from Stockton about this, and he's not in charge of the coffeehouse. I don't see you telling Miss Cat about this."

"Wanna bet?" Dawn growled.

"Fine!" Pete drawled, pointing at the wall mounted phone. "Go ahead and call her. The plane's probably landed by now. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear that her trust in you was misplaced!"

Dawn stared at him in disbelief. "I'm surprised you haven't already ratted on me!"

"I should, but she's got enough to worry about right now."

'Shut up and think for a minute!' Dawn scolded herself. 'He's not gonna call her, and if I don't say anything about it she'll never know!' She sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. "Sorry, dude. It was kinda hard to get to sleep last night," she stated apologetically in hopes of bringing him around. "It was a little too quiet!"

"Really?" Pete scoffed. "You didn't seem to feel that way a few minutes ago!"

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry, man. You scared me with all that noise," she explained quietly. "I thought someone broke in."

Pete stared at her in disbelief. He wasn't sure that he bought her change of attitude. 'What's she saying makes sense, but something doesn't feel right about this 360 she's turned," he observed to himself. He shrugged and decided to accept it at face value for the time being. "OK, I can understand that, especially when a woman's left on her own," he admitted. "Tell you what, you leave the cat run alone from now on, and either myself or Miss Anna will let the cats out each morning."

"I accept that," Dawn replied, holding her hand out to seal the deal.

Pete shook hands with her, then turned to the cats. "C'mon, kids. I'll feed you in the cat room!" He moved to the back door while the cats rushed to the fenced in tunnel, running pell mell for the coffeehouse.

'You might feel like you got away with it, but I'm keeping my eye on you, Dawn, and if you step out of line again, I'm making the call!' Pete promised grimly as he crossed the lawn.

---

Tig looked up from his breakfast tray to the clock over the cafeteria door. He snorted and abruptly rose from the table, taking his brothers by surprise.

"Where ya goin' in such a damn hurry?" Clay asked, fighting back a knowing smirk.

"Not time for work," Happy added.

"Payphone. Wanna make sure she's a'right," Tig explained as he lifted his tray and headed for the door.

"He's been as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs!" Bobby grinned.

"He's never liked airplanes," Clay admitted. "Was I like that when Gem was on the lam?"

"Just about," Jax acknowledged. "Though Mom wasn't goin' across country."

"And SAMRRO was watchin' out for her until Tig caught up with her," Bobby reminded them.

"Cat'll be a'right," Clay intoned. "That's her home territory. She knows the area well and the Illinois charters will be sendin' reps to keep her safe."

"Tell that to Tig!" Juice observed wryly.

"He knows. It's her bein' on her own that has him worried. Once he talks to her, he'll be a'right," Clay announced.

---

Cat's cell ring tone broke into her thoughts. Her hands shook as she pulled it from her pocket and glanced at the screen though the ring tone alerted her to the caller's identity. She took a deep breath to calm herself before pressing the 'answer call' button. "Hey, love!"

"Hey, back woman! Does that smartphone of yours recognize every pay phone here?" Alex complained.

"Pretty much. You're callin' pretty early. Anything goin' on?" She was relieved that her voice sounded normal. She felt as chilled as she had the night she'd discovered 'Guido's' true identity.

"Shit! Do I have to have a reason to call ya?" Alex grumbled good naturedly.

"No, it's always a pleasure to hear from y'all," she assured him. "It's just that you usually call at night. Don't tell me you were worried about me!"

"Just a little," he admitted. He didn't try to hid the relief in his voice.

"You had doubts?"

"Never about you, baby. I don't trust airplanes!" He snorted.

"Hah! You certainly didn't act that way when we flew together!" She reminded him.

"'Cause I was keepin' an eye on ya," he retorted.

"Among other body parts," she snickered.

"Ah, man! That was below the belt!" He protested. "You really know how to hurt a guy when he's down."

"Sorry, love," she replied quietly. "The trip's catchin' up with me."

The hours of travel and her concern about her father was evident to him. "What's wrong, baby? And don't tell me nothin's wrong 'cause I can tell by your voice that there's trouble!"

"Would y'all believe it's just tiredness?" She snapped irritably.

"Fuck no! You don't talk like that when you're tired, woman," he informed her.

She snorted and flipped the bird at the phone.

"I know ya just flipped me off, and I'll put that on your account to pay for later," he continued. "Somethin' happen to Blaine?"

"Yeah, got a call from the hospital a bit ago" she acknowledged reluctantly. "Some fucktard messed with his breathin' machine overnight and turned off the monitor alarm."

"Is he a'right?"

"They found it in time. He's still bein' transferred today."

"Who in the Hell would want to hurt your Dad?" He growled.

Cat remained silent. 'I can't tell him! He'll get himself all worked up because he can't do anything about it!'

"OK, baby, what aren't ya tellin' me?" He prompted gently to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Um, that the rental car agency is about to open so I can get my car," she replied evasively, hoping that he wouldn't press the matter.

"They can wait," he growled warningly. "I've told ya before not to leave me outta the loop just because I'm locked up. Now tell me what the fuck's goin' on!"

"Why in the Hell can't y'all be obtuse like other husbands?" She moaned.

"Because you try to sneak things past me, woman. It ain't gonna work this time. If I hafta wait until I run outta credit on this card, I'll do it!" He warned her. "And I already wasted a call earlier gettin' your voice mail."

"Y'all could've left a message!"

"And miss out on this battle of wits?" He hooted. "You can quit tryin' to change the subject, dammit! Tell me what's on your mind!"

"Jesus Christ! Y'all are like a dog after a bone!" She sighed. "Just don't be gettin' down on yourself about it, OK?"

"No promises, woman."

"Fine! The culprit is an old fremeny of mine. This very dark spectre from my past - who apparently still carries a big grudge - may be the janitor that caused him to have that seizure. I'm havin' him checked out, cause they were supposed to reassign his ass so he couldn't upset Daddy any more."

Alex frowned in consternation. "What do ya mean by a -" Her emphasis on the word 'dark' set off alarm bells in his mind. "You can't mean that asshat that nearly killed ya!"

"That's exactly who I'm talkin' about," Cat acknowledged grimly.

"But I thought Blaine took out a RO on him!"

"That doesn't stop someone who's persistent about gettin' what he wants, and he wants payback. He can change his ID quicker than you can shuck your drawers," she retorted.

"That's pretty damn fast," Alex admitted ruefully. "Now I'm really happy the Illinois charters are goin' to be watchin' out for ya!"

"There's no guarantee he'll get to Indy, love," she reminded him.

"And there's no guarantee he won't. I wouldn't trust that asshat any further than I could throw 'im," Alex retorted. "And I'd like to throw him pretty far!" He muttered under his breath.

"Line forms in the rear, buster. I wouldn't mind takin' the rusty bottle cap to the bastard myself."

Alex winced at her comment, though he couldn't help allowing a small, grim smile to cross his features. "Baby, don't take any chances. Keep one of the guys with ya at all times. Even at the hospital, and for God's sake, give 'em an idea of what to watch for!"

"Providin' the description the hospital gives me is good. He's likely to change it if he thinks I'm on to him," she replied.

"I wish to Hell ya had that extra protection I gave ya."

"I'll get a replacement," she promised. "And a little somethin' from the surplus store."

"Talk to the Illinois guys about a replacement for what I gave ya. Best not to have anything on file," he suggested.

"I will. Listen, love, the rental car people are finally here, so I need to things movin'. Think y'all can call tonight?"

"I'll make a point of it," he promised her. "Be safe, baby."

"I will, love. And try not to worry too much." She ended the call before he could reply to that remark.

'She knows me well enough, a'right!' He sighed, replacing the receiver on the cradle. 'But there's no way I can promise not to be worried about her now!'

---

Bill Vaughn, the manager of Good Samaritan Hospital's custodial department didn't like getting complaints about his employees. Not that he received many and the few he did receive were usually petty. 'If it wasn't for my people, this place would drown in shit and other garbage, yet we're the lowest paid workers in the hospital!'

This particular complaint wasn't petty. Vaughn was facing a serious problem with his newest employee, and the complaint wasn't adding up to what he knew of the worker's performance. He stared at the two incident reports lying on his desk, then glared up at the chief of security, who sat across the desk from him.

"Look, I know Evan is new, but he's a good worker. He comes in on time and gets his assignments done without goffin' around! He might not be a social butterfly, but that's not a bad thing!" Vaughn protested.

"I agree with you, but it's not his tenure that's the problem. He was present when the patient had that seizure, and the patient is noted in the initial report as being agitated about the janitor's presence in his room in the first place!" Kevin Riley, the hospital's head of security argued. "Evan Anders was the janitor identified in that report. Now I have a nother report that the patient's breathing equipment was tampered with every night after the seizure, including last night when the alarm monitor was shut off!"

"I read the incident reports, Riley," the custodial manager retorted wryly. "You don't have to review 'em for me!"

"You have to admit that two questionable events in such a short time merits a close look," Riley insisted. "Something that the patient's daughter has asked us to do!"

"And I'm tellin' you it's not necessary!" Vaughn thundered. "Shit, I reassigned Evan to the day shift and a different floor the day after the seizure! What more am I supposed to do?"

"You did the right thing at the time," Riley replied. "But now that things have escalated, we need to take a second look at him. What's wrong with asking him where he was last night?"

"It's insulting, that's what's wrong with it! Besides, the daughter is just grasping at straws and looking for someone to blame because she can't accept that her elderly father has a few screws loose upstairs!"

"Not this patient," Riley objected. "He may be in his eighties and have piss poor eyesight, but he's as sharp as a new nail out of the box! His daughter has a valid point and I intend to check it out, whether you like it or not!"

The two men were so intent on their conversation that they didn't notice tEvan Anders' presence until he tapped on the door frame. "You wanted to see me, boss?" Evan inquired, holding up a note that had been taped to his locker.

The two men glanced guiltily at each other. They shared the same thought of wondering how long he had been listening in to their conversation. 'Evan', in reality Cory Brown, didn't let on that he'd heard anything. He'd deliberately paused near the open door to scope out the nature of the security cheif's inquiry before announcing his presence. He nodded at Riley as he stepped past the threshold.

"Yes," Vaughn replied, quickly regaining his composure and indicating the other vacant chair in the office. "Have a seat."

'Evan' complied, gazing inquiringly at the security chief. "What's this all about?" He asked.

"This is Kevin Riley, chief of hospital security," Vaughn explained. "He needs to ask you some questions about an incident that occurred last night."

"I don't know how much help I can be," the erastaz Evan replied nonchalantly. "I wasn't on duty."

"Really? Suppose you tell us where you were last night about three in the morning?" Riley inquired.

"Asleep in my room," 'Evan' replied easily.

"Then why do the security monitors show you coming through the main entrance at 9pm last night?" Riley narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

Vaughn sat forward in his chair. This was news to him! "Evan? What were you doing here last night?"

"I came in to pick up my access badge. I accidentally left it in my locker," he explained.

"Why didn't the monitors show you leaving?"

'Evan' shrugged his shoulders. "You tell me; you're the head of security. I got my badge outta my locker and left through the service door. If ya ran a check of the scans for that door, it'll prove I swiped out at 915 last night." He suppressed a grim smile as he thought, 'Yeah, I swiped out, but never left!'

"I'll do that," Riley replied. "Can anybody confirm that you were in your room early this morning?"

"Probably not. The other residents were sleepin' at the time, too," he replied, leaning back in his chair in a casual manner. "So what happened last night that you're so interested in me?"

"That patient that had a seizure in your presence - "Vaughn looked down at the incident report and continued, " - Rev. Marshall's breathing equipment was tampered with."

Oh, so because I was present when he had the seizure, everyone thinks I messed with the equipment," 'Evan' nodded judiciously. "That makes plenty of sense."

"It does?" Vaughn asked, his face reflecting his confusion.

"Sure!" 'Evan' drawled. "If you look at it from one particular point of view. I'll bet his family is thinkin' I'm responsible for the tamperin', right?"

"I can't say," Riley replied dryly.

'Hah! You just said a mouthful, asshole!' The disguised 'Brownie' shrugged, "Well, I can assure ya that I had nothin' to do with it."

"But you can't prove it," Riley retorted.

"And you can't prove that I did it. That sounds a lot like a stalemate to me," 'Evan' smirked. "Is there anything else, boss? I really should get to my station."

"Not at this time, Evan," Vaughn replied with a relieved grin. "I'll keep you posted."

"Just don't leave the city for awhile!" Riley snorted.

"Oh c'mon, Riley! Was that really necessary?" Vaughn retorted.

'Evan' sauntered out of his supervisor's office, his face a mask of indifference. Inwardly he was seething with anger. 'I should've known that bitch would finger me! She's smart enough to see the similiarities between the seizure and the tamperin'! That's why Riley's investigatin' me!'

He stepped into the service elevator and turned his back to the door, taking several deep breaths. He needed to calm himself before he reported for duty. It wouldn't do to show up agitated and upset after staying calm and collected in front of his supervisor and Riley. 'If it gets back to Riley that I was a bundle of nerves, he'd be all over me like flies on shit! Time enough to work off my anger against that bitch later!'

As he ambled off the elevator to report to his work area, he decided that he would have to make another change in his appearance when he went to Indianapolis, yet keep his current look for work purposes. 'I need to save more money for the big finish, unless I make a score or two in Naptown while I'm there.'

Thinking of going to Indianapolis reminded him that he would need to check the campus bulletin board to see if anyone was looking for riders to the state's capitol. He figured he could afford to split the cost of gas with one of the students on his days off. 'I can't go on a weekend, now. She'll be lookin' for that! But there's plenty of students lookin' for a passenger on the weekdays. Everything's gonna come together!'

---

Cat stepped away from the courtesy van that delivered her to the rental lot. Another passenger got off behind her and began trudging towards the far end of the lot where the SUVs were parked. The woman carried two heavy suitcases.

Her rental vehicle, a 2013 Dodge Dart, was sitting just two spaces away from she. She briefly sympathized with the other customer's struggles with her suitcases, then shrugged and loaded her two bags in the trunk.

The Dart was the smallest vehicle in the Mopar line offered by the rental agency. She didn't want to get a Challenger, it would remind her too much of Alex and the vintage Dodge at home. The Dart, though smaller in height than the PT, was well appointed and comfortable. She knew the layout of the instruments and controls so that she didn't have to take time to familiarize herself with them.

The car was clean inside and out. The exterior was grey, as was the interior. 'It's not as roomy as the PT in the back, but it'll get the job done.' The sound system was exactly the same as the Cruiser's and she was happy to find that her two favorite radio stations were still in operation. 'Given the nature of format changes, it's like comin' home to an old friend!' She grinned, tuning the stereo to the classic oldies station and starting engine.

Once she was free of airport traffic, Cat pointed the car towards the near Eastside. She followed a one way street that would eventually lead to Mrs. York's office by way - she hoped - of the military surplus store she recalled was located in the area. 'If it's not there, I'll have to run an internet search to find another one.'

Fortunately, the surplus store was still in operation, though she nearly drove past it because the outside had been painted white. She recalled it had once been a camouflage color. She parked on the street and walked into the store, standing to one side of the entrance to take in all the offerings for sale.

There were the usual piles of khaki and olive drab clothing laying on tables, along with back packs and tents. Bins hanging from wire racks were full of flashlights, caps, gloves, and many other small items. There were cook stoves, lanterns, and boxes of military style boots all over. The store offered everything a military person or outdoorsman could possibly want, including MRE (meals ready to eat) packages.

What Cat was looking for was stored towards the back of the shop near the office. She was surprised that no one had answered the tinkling bell over the door that announced her presence. She shrugged and continued towards the back.

"Help ya with anything, Missy?" A gruff voice called out from the desk behind a glass display case. A burly man was sitting at the desk with the parts of a rifle spread out on top of it.

Cat winced at the store owner's patronizing tone of voice, but opted not to make an issue of it right away. "I'm lookin' for a good boot knife," she replied, glancing over the sample spread out on a piece of felt in the display case. "I assume that's locked on your side."

"You assume right, little lady," the burly man remarked. "Once upon a time I could display hardware all over the place. Can't be too careful with this shit nowadays!"

"Quite a distressin' sign of the times," Cat acknowledged.

The burly store owner, whose buzz cut was sharp enough to cut paper, hoisted himself from his chair and ambled to the display case. He leaned on it and looked intently at her. "Now what would a little lady like you want with a good boot knife?"

"What does anyone want with a good boot knife?" She countered. "I sure as Hell don't want to be peelin' potatoes with it!"

The burly man laughed and unlocked the case. He removed two top of the line knives in holsters that he lay on the case between them. "These wicked lil beauties are designed for use by the fairer sex. They look innocuous enough, but they can do a lot of damage."

Cat pointed at the black metal knife. "May I?"

"Be my guest."

She hefted the holster in her hand, testing the weight and balance. It felt solid, but not so heavy that it would fatigue her arm if she had to use it in close quarters. She withdrew the knife from the holster and examined the edges and the point. The edges were smooth but sharp. The point was also quite sharp. She reholstered the knife and pointed to her foot. "OK to try it out?"

"By all means," he replied.

Cat hid a smirk at his respectful response. His tone of voice wasn't patronizing now, and he'd dropped the adjectives. He recognized from her handling of the knife that she knew her business. She bent to attach the holster to the inside of her boot. It slid easily inside and didn't knock against her ankle bone when she walked. It would also be easily accessible if she needed it. Unlike California, Cat wouldn't be allowed to carry her knife on her belt. 'I suppose it could be hidden in my inner jacket pocket, but that could get clumsy and tear Hell outta the jacket fit.' She removed the holster and set it back on the counter. "No license is required for a knife, right?"

"So far. Ya still need one for a gun, but knives haven't been regulated yet. You just can't carry it on your belt, unless you're in the woods," the shop owner explained.

"I'll keep that in mind," Cat grinned. "I'll take the black one, here."

"Lookin' for anything else in the way of personal protection?" The owner inquired.

"What makes y'all think I'm lookin' for personal protection?"

It was the burley shop owner's turn to grin. "Anytime a woman like yourself walks in here specifically askin' about knives, she's generally not lookin' for a tater peeler!"

"Point taken," Cat remarked. "What do y'all have to offer?"

"You ever see those collaspable batons police women use?"

"Just on television," she admitted.

"Well, I got a shipment in just yesterday. They're lightweight and easy to use. Plus, you don't have to get close to do some damage."

"I might be interested."

"I might have what ya need. Give me a second," he replied. He put the silver knife back in the case and locked it, then motioned for Cat to follow him to the center of the store.

She picked up the black knife and stood where he indicated. He held a thin tube shaped item in one hand. It was as black as her knife. With a flick of his wrist, the tube shot open to its' full length, whistling wickedly in the air between them.

"This has a three foot length to it when fully extended. Just takes a flick of the wrist to lock it in place. If you throw it at a guys' legs, it'll knock him right off 'em, givin' ya a chance to get away." He flicked it closed and handed it to her.

She hefted it her free hand, nodding over its' light weight and sure grip. She expertly flicked it open as the owner had done, listening to the weapon snap into position. "Nice. I'll take 'em both."

"Cash or debit card?"

"Cash, and don't bother with a bag."

The clerk ambled to the cash register to ring up her purchase. Cat handed over a few bills and asked for a receipt. "It might come in handy at tax time."

The owner handed over the receipt along with her change. "Hope ya don't have to find a use for those things."

---

Tig felt better knowing his wife had arrived safely in Indianapolis, but he wasn't happy to learn about the tampering with Blaine's breathing equipment. 'I'm not real pleased that 'Brownie' fucktard iw after her while I'm stuck here and can't do shit about it!' The idea bothered him through his work shift. By the time he entered the cafeteria for lunch, his expression was downright stormy.

"Ut oh! Trouble at high noon!" Juice warned when he saw the fierce frown on Tig's face.

"Sure looks like it," Clay murmured.

Tig slammed his tray onto the table with so much force that the other trays rattled from the shockwave.

"Whoa!" Clay whistled. "What the fuck's happened, Tig?"

"Cat's a'right, it's just some asshat tampered with Blaine's breathin' apparatus!" Tig snarled. "And if it's who Cat thinks it is, she's in danger of gettin' hurt - or worse!"

"What the fuck are ya talkin' about? Westin's dead!" Clayyelped. The only attempt he knew of on Tig's old lady was the one by Westin and his crew after the Peace Rally.

"Who's after her?" The others chorused together.

"Who would dare?" Happy added at the same moment.

"Since when did you guys start shittin' through feathers?" Tig retorted, clenching his hands into fists in front of him. "All those 'whos' make ya sound like owls!"

"Quit jokin', Tig. This sounds serious," Clay growled.d Prolly somethin' the Illinois boys will need to know."

"No prolly about it, Clay. They need to know about this bastard," Tig sighed. As his brothers listened in shocked silence, the SAA filled them in on the man who'd betrayed and tried to kill Cat in Terre Haute decades earlier. "The last she knew, that fuck had been sniffin' around her father a few years back, tryin' to get intel on her. Blaine wasn't very co - operative with him."

"Smart man," Happy nodded approvingly. "He'd be dead if he'd done my family like that."

Tig shrugged. "Blaine's a little more forgivin'."

"Why does she think it's him?" Bobby asked. "You said it's been years since that fucker tried to find her."

"Cat knows the bastard's habits as well as the back of her hand. She's convinced her father's seizure is related to that asshat. She says he has the ability to change his ID like a snake sheds its skin," Tig explained gruffly, keeping her actual description to himself. His face was a stony mask, only his eyes betrayed his feeling of helplessness.

The club sat in silence, stunned by this new turn of events. They emphatized with their brother's feelings. Thousands of miles seperated him from his woman, and her safety was in the hands of their charter brothers when he wanted and needed to be the one looking out for her.

"You'd better call SAMCHI, Clay," Bobby advised softly. "Dopey can get word to the Illini boys so they can keep their eyes open."

"Yeah," Clay sighed. "We'd better do that now, time's already against us." He stood up and gestured to Tig. "C'mon, Tigger. You can give Dope the intel better than I can."

---

The truck stop lot outside Bloomington, IL, was busy despite the late hour. The SAMCHI boys parked their Harleys in the parking lot and walked to a neaby picnic table to wait for their Rockford brothers to arrive.

"Not a bad ride," Grim Bastard remarked, stretching his arms over his head. "Could've done without the traffic jam just before we hit town."

"How the Hell was I to know there'd be a fuckin' construction zone?" BZ complained. He lit a cheroot and leaned his back against the table.

"It wasn't that bad," Yum remarked through a yawn. "It gave us a chance to stretch our legs."

"Yeah, but it delayed our gettin' here," BZ pointed out.

"But SAMROC isn't here, so why are ya bitchin'?" Yum asked.

"Because I can!" BZ exhaled a plume of smoke and grinned slyly at his brothers.

The sound of approaching Harleys alerted them to the arrival of their SAMROC brothers. They squinted briefly in the glare of the bikes' headlights before their riders guided them to a stop next to the line of SAMCHI bikes. The new arrivals turned off their engines, removed their helmets, and dismounted then strolled towards their brothers. The 'bro hug double back tap' was exchanged before the group gathered around the table to plan their arrival in Indianapolis.

"I got intel from SAMCRO to share with you guys," BZ announced. "Besides havin' to lay low so the Outlaws MC doesn't get pissed, Tig's old lady is definitely in danger."

His own brothers looked at him in surprise. It wasn't normal for BZ to keep intel like that to himself. "Shit man! When were ya plannin' on sharin'?"

"Right now. I didn't get the intel until a few minutes ago when we were caught in that construction zone," BZ explained. "Dopey called with the info. One of the prospects took the call from Clay and didn't think to pass it on right away."

The men grunted in sympathy. "Seems difficult to find good prospects these days. They want the prestige but don't wanna work for it!" Mudball grumbled. "We've got some fuckwads like that, too."

"I suspect Dope's havin' that prospect clean the toilet with his tongue for that fuck up!" Yum guffawed.

"So we hafta be extra careful then. Any idea what we're lookin' for?" Shank growled.

"Tall and skinny. Accordin' to Tig, his old lady said the guy favors dark glasses and usually wears a 'stache and goatee. He was dark haired when she knew him, but we can't count on that being true now," Bz explained.

"Great!" Shank snorted.

"The lady will give us more intel when we get to Naptown," BZ stated. "She's 'sposed to be gettin' a description on the guy from the hospital her father is transferrin' from."

The quintet nodded. There was really nothing they could do until they got further information to go on. In the meantime, they had other matters to address.

"Any idea where we're gonna stay? I doubt we can all squat with her," Mudball announced.

"True dat," Grim observed. "I've been to Indy a few times, there's extended stay places with kitchens and cable television off the interstates. They're not too bad, and no one's gonna snark about the group of us stayin' there."

"Those places are expensive, though," Cavey remarked. "Usually 70 quid or more a day! I don't know about you boys, but our travel funds will run out pretty quick if we do that!"

"We're kinda in the same boat," Black Robbin acknowledged. "That's just somethin' we'll have to address when we get there. Let's see what kinda place the lady's gotten for herself, then we find somethin' close by."

The men agreed to that suggestion and moved on to planning how to meet up with Tig's wife and protect her.

"Since there's six of us, we can rotate four 'our blocks," Cavey stated. "That'll 'elp us keep from getting bored."

"Who's gonna meet with her at the hospital and explain shit?" Grim Bastard asked.

"Either Cavey or me," BZ replied.

"I'll do it," Cavey volunteered. "Just point me to the 'ospital and I'll bring 'er up to speed."

"What will we do in the meantime?" Black Robbin inquired.

"What else? We hang out," BZ laughed. "I've been to Indy a few times. There's a few decent biker bars in town. We can hang around until we get word from Cavey where this Cat lady is gonna stay, so we can find ourselves a place."

"I like the four hour rotation!" Black Robbin agreed. "I take it everybody's packin' heat and spare ammo?"

The group guffawed at the aburdity of the question. "Do brown bears shit in the woods?" Shank chuckled. "I've also got an extra, in case the lady can shoot."

"I hope she can. I hate it when we guard someone who won't help protect themselves. I hope she's good in a fight." Mudball growled.

"I 'ope we don't have to find out," Cavey murmured.

"OK, men. Who's hungry?" BZ inquired.

Five hands rose in the air. "Our bikes will need fillin' up before we hit the road," Mudball added.

"We'll eat first, then fill our tanks and hit the road." BZ declared.

---

Dawn remained seated at the kitchen table after Pete and the cats departed. She shook with pent up anger. "Shit! The whole plan damn near blew up in my face! Now I've gotta be extra careful; that fuckin' asshole's gonna be watchin' me like a hawk!"

She briefly panicked in thinking that Pete might be calling her step - mother from the coffeehouse to report her mistreatment of Ebony. She relaxed in the comfort of their agreement. "He doesn't want to add to her burden right now, the big dope! I'm safe as long as I don't give him another reason to report me."

She got up from the table and shambled back to her bed, flopping onto it with a moan. ' Damn!' She pounded her fist into her pillow a few times in frustration. 'Why didn't I take those fuckin' cats to the shelter when I had the chance? Then I wouldn't have been caught!' She sighed in resignation. She knew why she hadn't. She had fallen in love with the cats, especially the Siamese.

"Sentimentality is always gonna be your downfall. You lost sight of the goal by lettin' your heart rule your head. You can't afford to do that anymore!" She reminded herself gruffly. She closed her eyes in order to get some more sleep before her shift. She'd need all her reserves of patience to deal with Jaci's attitude until Beth reported to work. Dawn knew this was a test of them both, and this was one test she didn't intend to fail.

---

Cat gazed fondly at the Mrs. York's leasing office. The familiar building had been converted from a grocery store. The only remnant of that incarnation were the large plate glass windows that ran from oneo side and the front of the office. The building took up an entire block, divided into three units: the office itself, a seperate entrance to the second floor efficency apartments and a youth center complete with fenced in basketball court.

The youth center was open seven days a week, from afternoon to early evening and was open to all children on the Near Eastside, whether their parents were tenants or not. It gave them a place to hang out so they could do their homework or play the various indoor and outdoor games. It kept the children out of trouble and was one of the few reasons that the Near Eastside where the office was located didn't encounter a lot of juvenile crime.

'It's good to see that some things never change,' she observed. She was early. The office wasn't open for business. She entered the small alcove between the office and the street to retrieve a list of current openings. She hoped to find soemthing suitable for the Illinois riders. She took it back to her car to examine while she waited for Mrs. York to arrive.

'The guys are goin' to need someplace to stay; they can't all crash with me!' Her eyes widened in surprise when she found the unit right above hers was clean and ready to be rented. "Well, talk about serendipity!" It was furnished and the utilities were paid. "I've definitely got to get that for 'em. I hope Mrs. York will agree to it."

A car pulled to a stop in front of Cat's. The driver got out, clutching a leather handbag and carry case in one hand while closing the door with the other. The driver was Mrs. York.

"Hey, lady!" Cat remarked in greeting as she climbed out of the rental. "Long time no see!"

"You made it in!" Mrs. York exclaimed, dropping her bags and rushing up to enfold Cat in a warm hug. "How are you?"

"Tired, jet lagged, and worried," she replied, bending to retrieve her friend's bags.

"Come on inside and we'll talk. I have the keys ready for you," Mrs. York offered, unlocking the door to the office and holding the door open for Cat. Once they settled in her office, Mrs. York got the coffee pot started and asked if her visitor was hungry.

"No, I had a scone in Chicago and that filled me up," Cat replied tiredly. "I'm plannin' to get some supplies and a nap before Daddy gets to the specialty hospital."

"Anything new on him?" Mrs. York inquired, settling back in her office chair. "I've had him on our prayer list at Church and our Bible Study."

"I appreciate that," Cat replied. Mrs. York had just given her an opening to request the second unit and the presence of the Illinois men. She quickly related the news the RN at Good Samaritan had shared with her.

"Oh my!" Mrs. York exclaimed. "I don't understand why anyone would want to hurt your father! He's such a nice man!"

"That's what has me worried," Cat admitted. "I have a feelin' that it's someone who has a gripe against yours truly. That makes it really rough with Alex bein' overseas."

"He can't get a hardship discharge?" Mrs. York was aware of Alex's work opportunity through their email exchanges.

"It's not through the military," she explained apologetically. "Didn't mean to give y'all that impression. And you don't need to worry that whoever is messin' with Daddy is goin' to come after me. Alex has made arrangements for some friends of his to keep an eye on me," She held out the listing of available units and added, "So I wondered if it'd be possible to rent out the unit abive for them."

Mrs. York sat back in her chair. She had no reservations about renting to her friend and former long time tenant. 'She always paid on time and kept the units she rented in good shape. I'm just not sure about these friends of her husband's!'

"I'll be happy to put down a damage deposit for them if y'all feel it's necessary," Cat offered to break the silence. "I know that you don't like the idea of renting to people who've never filled out an application."

"That's not the issue, Honey," Mrs. York replied. "What kind of people are these friends of your husband's?"

"They're members of the same motorcycle club," Cat explained. "They have a couple of charters in Illinois."

"Not like the Outlaws, I hope!" Mrs. York exclaimed.

"They're the typical Harley enthusiasts that get together to ride places and have fun. A few of of them have been involved with law enforcement," Cat managed to keep her face straight over the little white lie she'd just told. 'Technically it's a misdirection of facts as opposed to a white lie!'

Mrs. York sat in thought for a few moments. Finally she smiled and stated, "It's an unusual request, but you're in an unusual situation. If they're friends of your husband's, they must be good guys."

"They try to be," she admitted.

"Don't we all?" Mrs. York remarked, turning on her computer to let it warm up. She got up and poured out two cups of coffee, setting one in front of Cat. "You won't have to put down a damage deposit, but you will be responsible for the rent and any damage they cause."

"Yes, ma'am," she acknowledged. "That's very generous of you."

"The bottom line is that I'm renting both units to you, not to them. Do you have an idea of the number of men that will be residing there?"

"I think six are makin' the trip. One of them will be with me at all times, so one will be sleepin' on the couch in my apartment. I suspect they'll rotate watch every eight hours," Cat stated. "One thing, they probably smoke. Is that goin' to be a problem?"

She raised the question because Indianapolis had recently implimented 'no smoking' laws in bars and restaurants. She wasn't sure about apartment buildings.

"No, just as long as they're careful with their discards, and don't throw their butts out on the lawn," Mrs. York replied. "Or their beer cans."

"I'll make sure of it!" Cat assured her gratefully. She knew that her friend didn't have to rent the second unit to her, much less accept the Illinois club members as secondary tenants sight unseen. "They'll probably ride their bikes, but the back lot's still available for parkin', isn't it?"

"It is. Or you can rent out the garage for them," Mrs. York grinned.

"Let's hold off on that and see what they want to do," Cat replied. "I'm all for givin' y'all some business, but I'm not made of money!"

Mrs. York grinned and began tapping keys, entering information onto a new rental contract, including the verbal stipulations they'd discussed. She sent the file to the printer, then handed it to Cat to review and sign. "You already know the drill, it's not that much different from the one you already signed. The rent is a little less than yours, if that's any compensation."

Cat reviewed the contract, initialed and dated each page, then signed and dated the last page. She handed the new contract back to Mrs. York, along with the first week's rent for both units.

Mrs. York made a copy of the new contract and presented it to Cat, along with two sets of keys. One was marked for her unit and the other for the club's unit. "Everything is ready for move in. The units are cleaned and we did pest control last night. You'll probably need to make extra keys for the upper unit. That's on you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way!"

"Once you get settled, why don't we get together for lunch or something?"

"I'd like that," Cat admitted sincerely. "I'm goin' to be at the hospital most of the time, but I don't see any problem with takin' some time away. As long as you don't mind us havin' an escort."

"Are you sure that person with the grudge won't come looking for you here?" Mrs. York frowned.

"Better to be safe than sorry," Cat assured her friend. "I'd rather have protection and not need it, then need it and not have it."

"That makes perfect sense," Mrs. York agreed with a soft smile. "I've missed you, and though you might come back home after your mom died. Guess marriage in California agrees with you."

"It seems to be," she acknowledged, fighting back a yawn.

"Well, you go get your supplies, and get some rest. I'll talk to you later." Mrs. York stood up and walked around the desk to escort Cat to the office door. The maintenance staff were picking up their work orders while the administrative staff were preparing for their day.

The women parted at the front door with hugs and promises to get together during Cat's tenure in Indianapolis. "I'm familiar with that hospital, Cat. They're really good. Your father will be in good hands."

---

The cats were happy to get fed, and let Pete know they appreciated him by rubbing against his legs, purring, and howling at him to 'hurry up' in cat language. The minute he put the bowls on the floor for them, three furry heads plunged into the bowls and they began devouring the contents. Loud purrs accompanied the sounds of crunching kibble.

'I hope that doesn't mean Dawn didn't feed you last night!' Pete though angrily as he exited the cat room. 'Of course, you three are good actors when it comes to wanting food.' He washed his hands thoroughly and ran the lint roller over his pants in accordance with the health rules, then wandered into the kitchen to start warming up the pastries.

A knock at the front door alerted him to Adrian's arrival for the morning shift. He hurried to the front door, unlocked it, and let his co - worker in, locking the door after him.

"Looks like you survived Stockton," Adrian grinned, following Pete to the kitchen.

Pete merely grunted and shrugged.

"Gee, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?"

"Nobody. I eat Wheaties," Pete snapped, then he sighed and leaned against the counter. "Sorry to snap, it's already been an interesting morning. Ebony was outside all night."

"What?" Adrian yelped. "Why?"

"Why do you think? Dawn didn't want to be bothered with getting up to let them out at the normal time. They're having breakfast in the cat room," Pete replied, relating the earlier confrontation with Dawn. "I'm going to make sure the cats get their morning food and the run's open at the proper time."

"Is the big fella OK?"

"He was curled up in the run, safe and sound," Pete assured his co - worker. "And quite proud of himself for being outside."

"I suppose so!" Adrian laughed. He sobered quickly to ask, "Are you going to tell Miss Cat?"

"I should, but she's got enough on her mind right now with the situation with her Dad. Since I'm taking over the cat care, I won't tell her, but I am going to keep an eye on that gal."

"That's going to be kinda difficult with her workin' most days at the kiosk," Adrian pointed out. He opened the oven to check on the warming pastries, then closed it again. "It'll be a couple more minutes before they're ready."

"The coffee blends are already brewing," Pete informed him.

The pair moved into the customer area and began preparing for the morning rush. They worked in silence for a few moments before Pete stated, "I guess you think I should tell Miss Cat about this."

"Not exactly, man. If she were on a vacation, then I'd say she should know. She's dealing with some heavy duty shit, and finding out that Dawn mistreated the cats is just going to make more upset. We can handle this for her."

"What do you mean 'we'?" Pete frowned.

"Just that. Between you and me, Miss Anna and CJ, we can make sure the cats are taken care of every day."

"Except Sunday. Guess that'll fall on me since I'm handling Stockton," Pete remarked. "But if the others don't mind, it'll be a big help."

"Hey, they care as much about the cats as we do!" Adrian grinned. "They'll pitch in. It's what we do."

---

'Goin' to the grocery has gone from a pleasure to a pain in the ass!' Cat observed grumpily. Her temper was already frayed past its' limit from travel fatigue. It didn't help that the aisles of the grocery store were filled with people standing in the middle of the path talking on their cell phones about what was needed at their homes. 'Haven't these people heard of makin' a list before goin' shoppin'?'

She loaded up on frozen meals for breakfast and dinner, soups, yogurt, coffee, bread, eggs, cheese, meats, condiments, and beer for the MC, along with some frozen low fat treats. She initially debated with herself about buying extra coffee before deciding to get it.

'If these guys like the whiskey blend as much as SAMCRO, I'll need extra coffee until a shipment of replacement whiskey blend comes in!' She doubted the pound of whiskey blend she'd packed would last very long if her hypothesis was proved right.

She stopped at a discount store to pick up bed linens, towels, a coffeepot, a microwave, paper plates and plastic utensils for the apartments, along with certain bathroom necessities. 'They're not top of the line, but they'll do for a temporary residence,' she assured herself. She figured the men would likely make their meals at her place as opposed to fending for themselves.

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket while she was loading the Dart's trunk. She checked the screen, noting that it was an Illinois number. 'Must be the charter checkin' in,' she observed. "Cat speakin'."

"This is BZ. SAMCHI. Me and the rest of the crew are in town. Are you at the hospital yet?"

"No, darlin'. His current one hasn't called to advise he's on the road yet. Whereabouts are all y'all?"

"A truck stop off I-74 and 465," BZ replied. "Why?"

"I've got an apartment downtown not far from the hospital, and the one above is rented out for all y'all. Thought you guys might wanna come on over and get settled in," she explained. "I just finished shoppin' and gettin' ready to head that way."

"Cool!" BZ whooped. Tig's old lady had just solved a big problem for them. He took down the address she provided. "See you in half an hour, then," he replied, shutting off the phone.

"What's cool?" Shank growled.

"Tig's wife got us a place to stay," BZ replied. "She rented the apartment above her for us."

"Convenient," Black Robbin observed. "If we pool money, we should be able to pay her back."

"We'll need to get our clubs to come up with more money to cover the rent," Mudball added.

"Shouldn't be a problem," Cavey replied. "Club's s'posed to 'elp with things like that."

BZ looked up from the map he'd accessed on his burner. "I've got the route to take. We ready to go?"

"Might as well," Cavey shrugged. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get settled."

"Hope she bought some grub and beer," Grim Bastard murmured.

"Hey, she's an old lady, ain't she?" Shank grumbled. "Of course she did!"

Any response Grim was going to make was drowned out by the sound of Harley engines roaring into life. The men donned their helmets, tightened them, and then rode off to inspect their temporary digs.

---

"There's nothin' else you can do for her, Tig," Clay advised his friend as they walked away from the pay phones. "SAMCHI and SAMROC will keep her safe from that asshat."

"They better," Tig growled.

"I've heard some good things about those guys. BZ and Cavey are natural leaders. Shank is a lot like Happy; doesn't say much, but explodes when it's time to act. The others are good in a fight. They'll take good care of her."

"Maybe we should reach out to Opie, have SAMCRO send somethin' to the Illinois charters to cover expenses," Tig remarked less gruffly.

"Already done, bro. I did that last night while we were settin' all this up. Chibs is gonna wire money to the two charters."

"Guess I owe ya one, brother," Tig sighed in relief.

"Then tell me why ya didn't say anything about this asshole bein' after Cat in the first place?" Clay inquired, glaring at his SAA.

"It never came up in the conversation," Tig shrugged. "It also wasn't my tale to tell. Like I said, Cat's had experiences that would scare Hap, and that asshat was behind a lot of them."

"Is he patched in a club?" Clay asked sharply.

"Fuck no! Tryin' to kill my girl was enough to get him barred from the one he was prospectin'. Didn't help that he beat her to a pulp outside their clubhouse," Tig replied.

Clay felt perplexed. "So you're just now tellin' me Cat has prior experience with MCs?"

Tig shrugged apologetically. "Not my story, Clay. But yeah, she's experienced."

"Was she his old lady?" Clay asked softly.

"To all intents and purposes," Tig growled fiercely. "She rode her own bike, though. Even had a ridin' group of all female owners." A note of pride swelled in his voice as he added, "She reached out to the Prez out of respect and the MC adopted them. The asshat just happened to be prospectin' the MC at the time."

Clay walked along in silence, thinking over what Tig had related to the club during lunch. "He hurt her more than physically, didn't he?"

"Every way there is to hurt a woman," Tig snarled. "She really cared about the guy and he treated her worse than shit on the bottom of his shoe!"

"With any luck, the authorties at that hospital her father was in will deal with him," Clay assured his friend, clapping the SAA on the shoulder.

Tig remained silent. He hoped Clay was right about the hospital authorities, but he knew from the things Cat had told him that 'Brownie' was more slippery than an eel when it came to dealing with authorities. 'We should have such luck!' He grumbled to himself.

---

'Brownie' looked around the university theatre's wardrobe storage room, hoping to find inspiration for a secondary disguise. 'I need something temporary to wear around Indy that won't fuck up my current look,' he observed. 'And somethin' for gettin' a ride there.'

There was more for him to choose from in the university's theatre than he'd found in any of the high school theatre departments, much less the town's playhouse. All those locations stored a few cans of pancake makeup and some wigs, but nothing that wouldn't be easily missed.

The college's theatre department held a vast storehouse of items that he could use without worry that his pilfering would be discovered. 'I shoulda come here in the first place!' He ruefully observed. 'Everything a man could want to make a temporary change to his apperance for the takin' and no one to know the wiser!'

He also liked the cache of costumes. He'd need something different from his ususal jeans and t shirt attire while he prowled aroun the speciality hospital. "Maybe a suit, look like someone who would belong in a hospital without arousing suspicion."

He sat down in front of a mirror and began experimenting with the darker shades of pancake makeup. 'That cunt will have the hospital lookin' for my normal appearance! If I'm a couple of darker shades, no one's gonna be the wiser!'

He abandoned the first selection as soon as he opened the tin. It was far too dark for his liking. "There's no way I can pass as a brother, and I wouldn't even try!" He snorted. He tried the next darkest shade, but dismissed it as well as not being useable for his needs. "I want to look tanned, but not like I've spent life out in the sun all the time!" He huffed.

He tried something a little lighter, smoothing it over his face with the sponge applicator. It blended neatly, and he liked the overall effect. He didn't have to apply a heavy amount, as he wasn't going to be appearing on stage. 'All I need is enough to cover my normal coloring!' He looked at him image in the mirror from all sides when he finished applying the foundation. He liked what he saw. A face that glowed with healthy color, a very far cry from his normal features.

'I've gotta do somethin' about my eyes. The dark glasses are goin' to be a dead giveaway!' He removed his glasses and winced at his reflection. The ice blue iris would definitely attract undue attention. 'I'll have to invest in some colored contacts, dammit! That's an expense I didn't want, but there's no way around it,' he sighed. Even though he didn't need a perscription for contacts, it was still frustrating and meant another delay while he waited for the order to come in.

He selected a wig and tried it on. It was raven black, a little shorter than his regular length. The hair came down just to his jawline. More importantly, the black hair matched well with the foundation he'd selected.

"Now, all I need is to find suitable clothing!" He observed triumphantly. He decided to remove the make up and wig. His exertions in finding clothing was sure to make him prespire, and he didn't want to mess up his regular clothes with run off. He packed the makeup tin and wig in his back pack, cleaned off his face, then began looking through the wardrobe racks.

The more 'Brownie' thought about it, the more sense it made for him to pass himself off in Indianapolis as a professional type of person, someone who could stride purposefully through a hospital and not be thought of twice for doing so. He also needed to look like a student to the campus society, which he could easily pull off with jeans and a campus logo hoodie or sweatshirt.

He finally found a three piece suit in a dove grey that fit his length without needing alteration. He found a pair of dress shoes to go with it. He then found a stash of eye wear, and was able to find a pair of clear eyeglasses in a simple wire frame. Those, along with the contacts he'd have to buy, would complete his disguise.

A box of religious props caught his eye, and he smiled maliciously. 'What an irony! I can pass myself off as a minister, coming to visit a stricken comrade! No one's gonna question a minister visiting the sick!' He pawed through the box until he found a prayer book and a cross on a golden chain. The prayer book would fit in his pocket. He mentally compared his professional costume to the many ministers he'd seen around the hospital since he'd started working there. He recalled that many Protestant clery wore an American flag lapel pin. He searched a few other boxes until he found one.

He came across a few university logo sweatshirts that fit him. He decided against a hooded one, opting for a crew necked one with a front pocket. He could wear jeans with the shirt. A knapsack marked with the university logo would help him to blend in with the student population while he looked for a ride.

Stuffing his finds in the knap sack, 'Brownie' turned off the lights and crept out of the storeroom. He slipped out the door and headed back to his sleeping room.

---

Pete and Adrian agreed to present the situation with the cats and Dawn separately to their co workers. Adrian presented the matter to CJ after he clocked in for the day. Pete walked into the office to talk with Miss Anna.

"Man, you two look like your best friend just kicked your asses!" CJ remarked. "What's wrong?"

"It's about that bad," Adrian admitted. "Miss Cat's only been gone a day and Dawn's shown her true colors!"

"What'd she do?" CJ asked. He'd passed the Trager's home on the way in and everything seemed OK to him. 'At least the house was still standing!' He listened in disbelief as Adrian related Pete's early morning confrontation with their employer's step daughter.

"How could she be so stupid?" CJ remarked hotly.

"Pete believes she was just being lazy. We talked about it this morning and decided we're going to take care of the cats from now on. You know, make sure they're fed, get them from the house to the shop and back again."

"How? Pete's got the only key. Is he going to come out on his days off to take care of 'em?"

"That's why I'm talking to you. I thought maybe we could alternate cat duty on Pete's days off, so he can relax," Adrian explained.

"He'd trust us with the key?" CJ whistled.

"I don't see why not," Adrian shrugged.

"That's exactly the plan," Pete remarked as he and Miss Anna entered the counter area. They had held a similar discussion in the office and come out to discuss their plan of operation with the other two employees.

"I'm not happy to find out that Dawn treated the kitties so cavalierly," Miss Anna informed the others.

"So we're all on the same page about taking care of the furry ones while Miss Cat is away," CJ observed.

"I don't see there's any alternative," Pete replied. "Tina Lou has enough to do with cleaning Miss Cat's house and making the crafts for sale here. It's not fair to add to her workload."

"Plus, I don't like the idea of putting her in a potentially confrontational situation with Dawn," Miss Anna stated. "Dawn's likely to attack her for taking over the cats' care than she will any of us."

"I didn't say anything to Miss Cat when she called earlier," Pete acknowledged.

"When did she call?" Adrian inquired.

"While you were on break."

"How is she?" Miss Anna asked worriedly.

"She sounded tired."

"Even my bags managed to get here at the same time!" Cat remarked. She meant it as a joke, but it came out more sharply than she'd intended from fatigue.

"That's good," Pete replied, completely non plussed by her tone of voice. "That's one less worry for you."

"That's true. Tig's already checked in," she reported.

"Wow! If I didn't know better, I'd think he must've camped out overnight at the pay phone bank!" Pete laughed.

"That idea crossed my mind, too. How's everything over there today?"

"The usual," Pete replied nonchalantly. "The cats got in a little earlier than usual, guess Miss Dawn didn't want to take chances that they wouldn't get into their room on time."

"Why?"

"She opened at the kiosk today," Pete replied smoothly. "We've decided to help her out with the kitties in the mornings, just make it a part of the opening process."

"I don't want a lot of keys floatin' around, Pete," Cat replied warningly.

"No worries, boss. Adrian or CJ will use my key on my days off," he explained.

"Good. I don't want you burnin' out from takin' on too much."

"Is there anything you need shipped to you, Miss Cat?" Pete inquired, hoping to take advantage of her fatigue to steer the conversation to a safer topic.

"As a matter of fact, could you send seven mugs and a pound of whiskey blend?"

"Of course! I'll get them shipped today!" Pete replied. "Want me to bill you?"

"Please. Let me know the amount and I'll transfer the money to the coffeehouse. And would you put me down to ship a pound of whiskey blend each week until I return?"

"I'm doing that now," Pete acknowledged, writing down the order. "You think the Illinois charter riders will like it that much?"

"If they're anything like their California counterparts, I might need more than a pound!" Cat replied through a yawn. "So give the furry ones a pat on the head for me. I'll stay in touch."

"Glad to know she arrived safe," CJ remarked. "It sounds like she was too tired to press the issue about the cats."

"We're agreed that we won't tell her anything went awry if she asks later, right?" Pete inquired, glancing at his co - workers.

They nodded in silent agreement. Cat's staff would protect her from her step daughter's betrayal and look out for the best interests of her furbabies.

---

Cat pulled her car to a stop in front of the apartment building she'd be calling home. The building hadn't changed much in the years since she'd last checked it out as a possible residence several years earlier. There was new paint on the trim, and shutters on the side windows, along with a decorative wreath at the very top of the outer wall. A line of mailboxes with numbers for each apartment were lined up next to the entry that led to the second and third floor units. The two first floor units featured screened in porches. 'I imagine the club will consider that their hang out!' She grinned.

The roar of approaching Harleys greeted her as she climbed out of the driver's seat. She looked up to watch the half dozen Illinois riders pull up and park their bikes in a line behind her Dart. She perched on the open hatch and waited until the men turned off their engines, removed their helmets, and dismounted. "Welcome to Indy, gentlemen," she remarked with a welcoming smile. "I'm Cat." She stood up and held out her hand in greeting.

"BZ, SAMCHI," the lead rider remarked, stepping forward to shake hands with her. He was surprised to find she wasn't as tall as he'd anticipated and tried hard not to show it.

"Yeah, the website tends to make me seem a larger persona than I really am," she grinned, sensing his reaction. "No harm done, brother, I get that a lot," she hastened to assure him.

"Cavey," the second man remarked, pumping her hand enthusiastically.

"You're from across the pond," Cat observed. "I detect a wee bit of the Brit in your voice."

"Guilty!" Cavey grinned. "But I'm actually from British Columbia," He stepped aside to allow the other men to introduce themselves.

Cat pointed to the row of windows above her apartment. "That'll be your place for the duration," she explained, handing the key to BZ and pointing to the assortment of bags and boxes in the trunk. "I picked up some essentials for us."

"Great!" Grim Bastard cried, spying the cases of beer in the trunk. "We weren't lookin' forward to shoppin' for that kind of shit."

"Grim!" Yum admonished.

"Just sayin', brother!"

"It's all right. A lot of males don't like to shop!" Cat laughed. "Think I might be able to talk all y'all into helpin' me carry these things inside?"

The men gathered around the car, removing the plastic bags and boxes along with her two pieces of luggage from the Dart's trunk. She locked the car and led the group to her apartment entrance, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

"The kitchen is on through that way," she pointed the direction to the men as they entered the front room. BZ and Cavey carried her cases on into the bedroom.

"Are all the units furnished the same way?" Cavey inquired on his return to the living room.

"Well, not exactly the same, but y'all get the general idea," Cat explained. "But that television goes upstairs in your unit. I haven't ordered cable, though."

"Not your responsibility, Lady Cat," Cavey gallantly assured her. "We're grown and can pay for cable if we want it."

The other men returned from the kitchen, looking around expectantly. "Can we smoke?"

"In your unit or out on the porch, yes," Cat explained. "No throwin' your butts on the grass, please."

"I found the ashtrays you bought," Shank announced, holding up a pair of large sized ceramic ashtrays. He carried them out to the porch, followed by his eager clubmates. "Beer's chillin' in the fridge," he added over his shoulder.

BZ and Cavey followed her to the kitchen to help her put things away. Cat separated out the bathroom and kitchen supplies for the two apartments while the men unpacked the kitchen appliances and set them up for her.

"Here's the things for your apartment," Cat stated, handing over a couple of large bags to Cavey. "Linens and stuff. I hope someone knows how to make a bed, 'cause it's goin' to take everything I have in me to make my own!"

"No worries, Lady Cat," Cavey grinned, handing his bag over to BZ. "Give me the linens for your bed and I'll have it made up for you in no time!" He picked up the bag she indicated and disappeared into the bedroom.

"Dopey, our prez, informed us about the situation you're in, Cat," BZ explained, setting the bags on the kitchen counter and leaning against it. "We're going to rotate every four hours, and someone is always gonna be here with ya. We have bedrolls, but appreciate your thoughtfullness. Guess we need to settle up on the apartment."

Cat handed over the folder containing the rental paperwork for the club's unit. "All the info is in there. It's a week to week tenancy, just like mine. No damage deposit was required, so it's just the weekly rent. The rules are included. I just ask that y'all not hold any big parties."

"No problem, Cat," BZ replied after he skimmed over the paperwork. "We're not here to party."

"You're all set, Lady Cat," Cavey announced, returning to the kitchen. "I put your two bags on top of the chesterdrawers."

"Thanks, Cavey," she yawned. "How about if we settle up later? I really need to catch some sleep before Daddy gets here."

"Sure, Cat. We'll be fine," BZ assured her gruffly. "But we do need to talk about that asshat, get an idea of what to watch for."

"We will, as soon as I get it from the hospital in Vincennes," she replied, disappearing into the bedroom and closing the door behind her. She quickly unpacked, storing her clothes in the closet and drawers, then put her ereader, laptop, and her phone on their respective chargers before allowing herself to look at the bed.

'Cavey must've been in the military, this looks tight enough to make a quarter bounce!' She thought approvingly. Just as she was about to lay down, her cellphone began ringing. A check of the caller ID indicated that the call was coming from Good Samaritan. "This is Cat!"

"Mrs. Trager, your father's been loaded into the ambulance and is on the way to Indianapolis," the voice on the other end announced flatly.

"OK, do y'all have any idea what route they're takin'?"

"Why, the usual, of course. Highway 41 North to I-70," the voice replied.

"Don't sound so surprised," Cat retorted dryly. "It's always possible they could've used Highway 50 to 31."

"Well, they're not," the voice replied flatly.

"Obviously. Any information on that other matter I discussed with the night nurse?"

"No ma'am," the voice replied crisply. "I was only told to contact you about your father."

The line went dead and the phone darkened in her hand. "Well! That was informative!" She sighed. She moved to the door, opened it, and looked out into the living area. "Cavey? BZ?" She called out.

Neither of the men answered her call. Instead the dark haired rider who'd introduced himself as Black Robbin appeared in the entry to the porch. "Everything all right?"

"Just got a call from the hospital, Daddy's on the way; it'll take 'em about two and a half hours to get to town," she explained. "We'll need to get to the hospital in about that time."

"OK, ma'am. I'll tell BZ and the others," the rider assured her.

"Thanks," she sighed, closing the door to her bedroom. She started to set her cell phone alarm when she noticed the voice mail indicator showed a message was waiting. "Now what?" She sighed tiredly, pressing the button and holding the phone to her ear.

---

As soon as the door to Cat's bedroom closed, Black Robbin ran up the stairs to the clubs' apartment. "Cat's father is on the way!" He announced breathlessly. "The hospital just called. She said it'll be awhile before he gets here; she said to be ready to go in a couple of hours."

"A'right. Go on back downstairs with the others," BZ acknowledged, checking his watch to make note of the time.

Cavey sat back in his chair and crossed his legs out in front of him. "We need to make sure she hahs sum kinda protection, mate."

"I brought extra hardware. From what Dopey said, Tig's taught her pretty well. As prepared as she was for us, I suspect she picked up somethin' already," BZ observed.

"Maybe somethin' for close quarters, but you can't buy a gun without goin' through a waitin' period, mate. At least a legal one," Cavey protested.

"And we have no way of knowin' if she has contacts here to get an unregistered one," BZ added. He winced and dug into his jeans pocket to retrieve his burner. "BZ here," he barked.

"Dopey callin'. Youse guys meet up with Cat yet?"

"Yup. She secured us an apartment, right over hers!" BZ reported. "Her dad's en route, should be here in a couple of hours."

"Great. SAMCRO reached out, sent us some money to cover your trip. What's the best way to handle it?"

"Plenty of places to wire money, but why not find out how to get it to the lady?" BZ replied. "She's already out considerable dough in settin' us up."

"Like puttin' it in her account, eh?"

"That's my thought," BZ acknowledged. "She's sleepin' right now. I really don't wanna bother her."

"Copy that. Call me with the intel once you've talked to her," Dopey ordered. "Stay alert."

"I gather from your side of the conversation that SAMCRO's sent some funds," Cavey observed.

"Yup. I think it's only right to make her whole after all she's already done," BZ remarked.

"If you hahdn't mentioned it, I would've brought it up," Cavey grinned. "I think I can see why Tig chose her."

"Yeah, so can I," BZ replied. "She really did more than most old ladies would've done. But that makes me wonder if she can take doin' what's necessary if that fucktard shows up."

"We don't really 'ave any choice, mate," Cavey observed. "We're just going to 'ave to ask 'er."

---

The sky overhead was laden with dark clouds that shut out the stars and the moon yet Cat could make out darker shapes around her. The tree limbs stretched out like thin arms and fingers reaching towards nothing. She wasn't sure if she was in rural Indiana or wondering Chigger Hill back in California.

Cat didn't feel fear from the darkness. She'd spent a great deal of time on her grandparents' farm in Southern Indiana and at summer camps to fear the woods at night. What did send a chill up her spine was the feeling that she wasn't alone.

"Alex? Are you hidin' somewhere?" She called.

There was no answer except for the chorus of crickets, owls, and other night creatures. 'Hell, y'all know it's not Alex! He's in Stockton! None of the club would be followin' me without lettin' me know they were around. They know better.'

It was possible that her unknown follower wasn't a friend. She leaned against a sturdy tree so that her back wasn't exposed. She slid the boot knife free, holding it firmly in her hand in case it might be needed. She reached with her other hand for her gun, only to realize she didn't have it.

'That must mean I'm in Indiana,' she observed. 'I don't it that whoever's followin' me is as outdoor savvy as I am.'

She knew better than to try to strain her eyes to find her follower. A vague sense of unease filled her, but she shoved it aside. Fear was an enemy and would dull her reactions. She needed to be sharp and keep her wits about her. Keeping her back against the rough bark of the sturdy old tree lent her a sense of security and she had no intention of leaving it.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on clearing her mind, allowing her ears to replace her limited eyesight. She could hear the slight crackling of fallen, dried twigs and leaves nearby, indicating her follower wasn't far away.

The odor of the woods filled her nose, but she couldn't smell anything that didn't belong. 'Whoever he is, he's smart enough not to be wear cologne,' she frowned.

"OK, y'all might as well show yourself! I know you're out there!" She called into the darkness. "I've got a knife and know how to use it!"

A fluttering of wings from the roosting birds her shout disturbed answered her. She waited breathlessly and heard more crunching sounds. "Good thing all y'all don't have to rely on your huntin' skills!" She murmured. "You'd starve to death!"

"I don't have to rely on my skills for a livin', Cat," came a frighteningly familiar voice from the darkness. "Not when I can feed off the hard work of fools like you!"

"Why don't y'all show yourself, fucktard?" She growled fearlessly. "Or do y'all get off on hidin' in the shadows and tryin' to scare people?"

"I think it's better that you not see me," the voice remarked dryly. "Not that I fear that knife of yours. Ya might use it on anyone else, but you'll never use it to harm me!" The crunching noise came a little closer than stopped again. "It's just not in ya to hurt me!"

Cat could hear the raspy breathing of her nemesis directly in front of her. 'Sounds like years of smokin' are catchin' up with him. That could be an advantage for me.' She reached into her pocket, withdrew her lighter, and engaged it. She was momentraily blinded by the flash of light, but so was he. Her vision quickly adjusted to see the face mere inches from hers. Though she'd expected it, the shock nearly caused her to drop the lighter and her knife.

"I told ya!" He sneered, bending over to pick up her knife. He straightened and pointed it directly at her throat. "Too bad I don't have the same problem."

Cat's eyes opened wide as she sat straight up in the bed. She was panting and sweating and her heart was racing as if she'd just run a marathon. She momentarily panicked when she didn't recognize her surroundings, then she remembered where she was.

"Shit!" She whistled through her teeth, willing her heart and body to calm itself. "Thank God it was just a bad dream!" She glared at the cell phone, thinking uncharitably that the message and subsequent call she'd made to Vincennes had stirred up her overactive imagination and brought about the nightmare.

The message had been from the chief of security at Good Samaritan, requesting her to call him back at her earliest convenience. She called him right back, anticipating that he had information about the janitor for her.

"Mrs. Trager, so good of you to call so quickly," Kevin Riley stated.

"I was on the line with my father's floor when y'all called," she explained. "He's on his way to the other hospital. What do you have to tell me about the janitor?"

"I'm afraid you're not going to like it," Riley replied. "I spoke with the janitor in question this morning, along with his supervisor. His name is Evan Anders, and he's a recent hire."

'Figures he'd be usin' an assumed name. He probably reached out to the mercenary community,' Cat thought wryly. "What was his start date?" She winced when Riley gave her the date. It was just before her father had been admitted to Good Samaritan. She held her breath as Riley described the janitor to her then slowly let it out agian.

'It doesn't sound like him, except for the pale skin and thin build. If he reached out to the mercs to get a new ID, he could've changed his appearance to go with it!'

"Mrs. Trager? Are you still there?" Riley inquired anxiously.

"Yeah, sorry about that, guess I was wool gatherin'. Just got in from California this mornin'," she explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry! You must be exhausted!" Riley replied sympathetically.

"Kinda, what did Anders have to say about last night?" She asked.

"He was in the hospital in the early evening," Riley reported. "However, he wasn't there long."

"Oh?"

"Yes, ma'am. He claimed that he left his keycard to the service door in his locker. He was shown on the monitor entering the front entrance about 9pm. The scan report from the service exit shows that he left 15 mins later, just as he claimed."

"That doesn't mean anything," Cat snorted. He could've easily scanned his keypass, but never left."

"But why would Anders hang around close to six hours when he had to be at work just a few hours later?" Riley inquired. "It doesn't make sense."

"The person I believe responsible for Daddy's seizure and the tamperin' doesn't need a lot of sleep for one, and for two, he could've easily napped in an unused room," Cat retorted.

"Does his description fit the person you're thinking of?"

"No, but that doesn't really mean anything. He's good at changing his appearance," she insisted.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Trager. I realize how important this is to you, but I really think you're mistaken about Mr. Anders. His story checked out, I have no reason to continue the investigation," Riley informed her crisply. "Especially now that your father has been discharged from our facility."

"I understand," Cat growled in frustration. I appreciate y'all takin' the time!" She turned off the cell and set it on the bedside table. She was tired and upset. She knew in her gut that 'Brownie' was responsible for the tampering and the seizure. 'I just can't prove it!' She lay down on the mattress and quickly fell asleep.

She shivered with fright from the dream. She wondered if 'Brownie' might be right in his assessment of her. 'But how could I possibly love someone as cruel as him after all this time? Especially someone who could torment my ill father?'

Her eyes strayed to the three wooden felines Tig had given to her. A simple gift he made for her because he wanted to. 'A lot like Bill in that respect,' she observed to herself. 'Brownie' had never given her anything but lies and betrayal, not to mention nearly killing her, in exchange for her love. She picked up all three wooden figures and held them close to her heart. "No, I want him to pay for what he did to me!" She whispered fiercely.

She placed the figures back on the beside table and turned on her cell to check the time. It was nearly time to get ready to get to the hospital. 'I'll give the guys the intel from Riley about 'Brownie'!'

---

Dawn waited on tinterhooks all day to receive a blistering angry call from her step mother for letting Ebony out all night. She couldn't help believing that Pat would rat her out after all. 'He's just been waitin' for a reason to get me in trouble! He'd be stupid to let a chance like this pass him by!'

She would've found it difficult to keep her nervousness from showing at work had it not been that Jaci worked part of the day with her. 'Like I really need this!' Dawn complained to herself when Jaci reported for her shift at mid day. 'The bitch better not say anything about Daddy or she'll get blistered with hot liquid in the face!'

Fortunately for Jaci's physical well being, she didn't say anything snide about Tig. In fact, she barely said anything to Dawn except when it involved a customer's order. That didn't stop Jaci from showing her disdain for her co - worker in other ways.

Dawn kept her temper whenever Jaci spoke to her in a tart manner, but her anger grew every time that Jaci would 'accidentally' bump into her whenever Dawn was making a hot drink. The first time it happened, Dawn yelped in pain when the hot liquid hit and scalded her hand.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Jaci cried in fake sympathy. "Guess I wasn't watching where I was going!"

'Yeah, right!' Dawn thought bitterly, running cold water over the burn so it wouldn't blister. She completed the customer's order and began a new one when the same thing happened. This time, Dawn jumped out of the way so that the hot liquid splashed on the floor.

"Better wipe that up before somebody slips on it, dear," Jaci sweetly informed her.

Dawn sidled up next to Jaci and snarled softly, "You clean it up, bitch, since you can't watch where you're going. And if you do that shit again, I'll tear your throat out!"

"Humpf!" Jaci snorted indignantly. "Just goes to show the apple doesn't fall far from the tree!"

"No, it doesn't. Maybe you should remember that," Dawn growled warningly.

"Oooo! I'm so scared!" Jaci retorted.

"Hey! Cut it out you two!" The customer waiting for his order cried. He glared at Jaci and added, "I saw you deliberately bump your co worker. I want to talk to you manager!"

"She's not here at the moment," Jaci replied, her eyes wide with fear. 'Could he really turn me in? Beth already got on my ass once about this. If he complains, I'm in real trouble!'

"That's fine. Just tell me how to contact her!" The customer retorted, drumming his fingers expectantly on the counter.

Dawn completed the customer's order and handed a piece of paper over to him. "Here's the information you wanted, sir."

Jaci glared at her in disbelief. 'You fucking bitch! Just wait until we're alone!'

"I hope you're OK," the customer replied, folding the paper with Beth's name and contact information on it. He tucked it in his pocket. "I plan to call in a complaint."

"It's really not necessary, sir," Dawn assured the customer. She glanced sideways at her nemesis, noting the naked fury on her face. 'Relax, bitch! He won't call. If you owe me, you can't annoy me!'

"Well, I think otherwise," the customer replied, placing a dollar bill in the tip jar. "There's no excuse for what she did to you!" The customer stormed away from the kiosk.

No new customers were waiting to be helped. Jaci stared intently at her co - worker before snarling, "Why did you give him Beth's phone number if you didn't want him to make an issue of it?"

"He would've kept askin'," Dawn shrugged. "This way, he has what he wants, but he'll prolly never bother callin'."

"I suppose you're going to tattle on me to Beth anyway!" Jaci snorted.

"It'd be your word against mine," Dawn explained logically. "You've been here longer. Why would Beth believe me over you?"

A slow smile crossed Jaci's face. "That's true. It wouldn't do you any good, no matter if your step mommie owns the place or not!"

"Just lay off the physical shit, will ya? I don't need any more burns."

Jaci didn't reply in the negative or the affirmative. But, there were no further 'accidental' physical contacts between the two women during the remainder of their shift.

Neither girl could tell whether Beth had been informed of the incident between them when the manager arrived for her shift. Beth greeted them warmly, then vanished into the store room to conduct inventory. She immediately opened the password protected file on the computer to review the security footage from the incident. The customer had made good on his trheat to call in a complaint. Beth watched the incident two times, then closed the program and walked out to the kiosk.

"Jaci, I need to see you in private. Now."

---

Cat and Cavey were sitting in the lounge area of the floor where her father would eventually be admitted. Actually, Cavey was sitting watching Cat pace from one end of the lounge to another, pausing every so often to glare at the nurse's station.

"Relax, Lady Cat!" Cavey grinned. "They know we're 'ere for yer father. They'll let ya know the minute 'e is settled!"

"I know," she sighed in frustration, dropping into a leather overstuffed chair. "I just hate all this waitin'!"

"Why don't ya handle some o' yer on line business while yer waitin'?" Cavey suggested, pointing at her closed laptop. "Yer not gonna be able to use it in 'is room, seems this would be a good way to pass the time."

She favored him with 'The Look', then grinned sheepishly. "I hate it when you men are right!"

She pulled the laptop in front of her, opened it, and activated the internet. She pulled up her work emails first, and winced when she saw a red flagged one from Beth.

"Shit!" She muttered after reading the email concerning the complaint Beth had received about Jaci. She drummed her fingers anxiously while she watched the attached video that documented Jaci's deliberate tormenting of Dawn.

"I put Jaci on a final warning after giving her a very stern talking to," Beth wrote. "I told her that this was extremely disappointing, and that this wasn't the first time she'd been rude. I reminded her of the nasty attitude she'd displayed towards you and that we'd discussed that kind of thing wouldn't be tolerated, even though you didn't want me to make an issue of it at the time. I felt it important to try to nip it in the bud. She came out of it crying because she felt that she'd let me down."

Cat activated her iPhone and selected Beth's number. She continued to drum her fingers while she waited for her kiosk manager to answer.

"Hi, Cat. Been expecting your call," Beth greeted.

"Sorry. Been kind of a busy day," Cat replied.

"Daddy hasn't arrived yet, so I'm tryin' to kill time with work."

"I really thought that Jaci and Dawn could work together after all this time. Getting that complaint from the customer proved I can't count on her, and that's going to make scheduling more difficult," Beth reported.

"You did the right thing. Was Dawn severely hurt?"

"It's a minor burn. I had her get treated in the ER for it," Beth assured her. "The doctor assured me it won't blister or even scar!"

"Good," Cat sighed in relief.

"Do you want to talk to Jaci tomorrow?"

"No," Cat replied. "You already handled it; there's no need for me to make an issue of it. I'll check in with Dawn later when I call the house to let the cats hear my voice."

Cat shut off her iPhone and set it down on the table next to the laptop. "Oye!" She sighed.

"Trouble at home?" Cavey asked sympathetically.

"A little. Tig's daughter, Dawn, is one of my employees. One of the co - workers has a low opinion of Tig and loves to torment Dawn. Usually they don't work the same shift, but this was one of those times when the schedule couldn't be helped," Cat explained.

"Sounded like the tormentor took it a little too far," Cavey observed.

"She did. She's still got her job, but if she steps outta line again, she's gone," Cat stated grimly. She fell silent while she checked the remainder of her business related emails. No other urgent matters required her immediate attention. All was well at the gym and the coffeehouse, much to her relief. She closed the laptop and leaned back in her chair.

"Do ya mind if I ask a question, Lady Cat?" Cavey inquired eventually.

"Y'all can always ask, doesn't guarantee I'll answer," she grinned impishly.

"Tha's fair," he smiled back. His expression became serious as he continued, "What on Earth did ya do to make this 'Brownie' asshole carry such a grudge against you and yer family?"

Cat had shared the information Kevin Riley had given her with the club before she and Cavey left for the hospital. That included the current description and name he was using. "Not that it's goin' to be much help to us up here," she wryly added. "It's likely he'll adopt another disguise when he comes here."

The Illinois riders exchanged concerned glances. The fact that used the word 'when' instead of 'if' wasn't lost on them. Tig and Clay had warned Dopey that the threat was real, and Cat had just confirmed that to them with her statement.

She winced in response to Cavey's inquiry. She leaned forward in her chair, staring straight at Cavey. He had to strain his ears to hear her whispered, pain wracked reply. "I made the mistake of lovin' him."

Cavey wanted to probe for more intel, but the approach of one of the floor nurses prevented him. The nurse informed them that Cat's father was settled in his assigned room.

"If you'll follow me, I'll take you to him."

"Pardon me, Cavey," she murmured, stuffing her electronic equipment into the carry bag.

"Let me carry this for you, Lady Cat," he replied, taking the bag from her arm. He lightly gripped her arm above the elbow, escorting her to her father's room. 'Why on Earth would a man 'ate the woman what loves 'im? The lad must be a sicko!'

---

Tara returned the letters from JT to Maureen Ashby and the report on JT's accident to her briefcase and locked it. The latter was a precaution against Abel's inquisitive little eyes and hands. The little man was crawling and couldn't help grasping anything that crossed his path, especially paper. He cooed with joy at the crinkling nose any piece of paper made in his hands. She didn't want him to tear up or misplace the important papers she'd accumulated.

She'd been keeping a watchful eye on Abel since his return from Ireland and Jax's incarceration. So far, the child had shown no evidence of emotional or psychological trauma from the kidnapping. She'd even gone so far as to consult with a specialist in child psychology at her former hospital in Chicago about her concerns.

"It sounds like Abel was given a great deal of warmth and comfort from the various caregivers that came in contact with him during the ordeal," the specialist informed Tara. "The only thing that might cause him trouble in the future is any memory he might have of the forcible way he was taken from you."

Tara was careful not to give the specialist Cameron Hayes' name or many specifics about Abel's kidnapping to the specialist. "He seems to be developing normally. No nightmares or restlessness," Tara reported.

"That's a good sign," the specialist assured her. "Just continue to monitor him, and if there are any changes in his sleep patterns or his behavior, feel free to call me back."

That conversation had taken place several months earlier. To date, Abel was happy and healthy, much to Tara's relief. Her pregnancy was advancing normally and she cradled her slightly protruding stomach with both hands, smiling fondly at the definite kick under her palms. 'This has to be a boy!' She sighed. 'No little lady would kick this hard!'

She was finally past the morning sickness stage of her pregnancy, for which she was grateful. The only thing that now troubled her was the discovery about Clay and Gemma's apparent ruthlessness in having JT killed, a belief JT had shared with Maureen in his letters.

'I don't know why that surprised me about Clay, I've never been completely at ease around him, he's always been so intimidating!' She shook her head at her own disbelief in Gemma's culpability. 'It shouldn't be such a surprise that Gemma might've had a hand in JT's death. I helped her kill the caregiver, and I can't forget how she stalked Penny Zobelle!'

She shivered to recall how insistent Gemma had been at following Zobelle's daughter from Charming to Galt. Her friend's jaw had been set like stone during the trip; her knuckles were white from her grip on the Cutlass' steering wheel.

'No, I don't believe it! Gemma couldn't have had a part in her husband's death! It's just too impossible! Killing a stranger is one thing, but as family oriented as Gemma is? There's just no way!'

Another insistent kick from the baby growing inside her tremored under her resting hands. It felt as if the child shared its' mother's distress and was making its' own protests known. Tara patted the bulge and crooned soothingly at it.

'That's it! I can't go on like this! It's bad for me and the baby! I need to talk to someone about this, but who?'

Tara knew better than to ask Gemma about it. Not with all that she'd discovered about her mentor. Clay and Lenny the Pimp were the only other members of the 'First Nine' still alive, and both of them weren't accessible to her.

'It's just as well,' Tara mused wryly. 'I doubt that's a topic Clay would want to talk about in front of his brothers!'

That left one other living founder. She'd have to sound out Piney and see what light he could shed on the matter. She was nearly as intimidated by Piney as she was by Clay, though the gruff older man had shown an incredible amount of concern for her since the others had been incarerated. Almost like a grandparent. 'It's not like there's any other option open to me!'

---

Tig lay on a bench in the exercise yard, looking up at the blue sky above him while Happy knelt on the ground next to him. Tig's shirt was open, revealing his chest to the sun. Happy held a small bottle of ink in one hand and a length of steel he'd sharpened to use as a needle in the other.

He'd just completed the outline of the tattoo he'd designed for Tig. He took a rag out of his pocket to blot the lines of blood the tool had created. "I hate usin' this kind of shit for tats," he growled.

"Why?"

"It's hard to control the depth of the point!"

"Doesn't matter," Tig grunted. Actually, it mattered a lot, but he wasn't about to admit that. 'The pain from this tat is nothin' compared to what Ope's endured!' He reminded himself.

"This isn't somethin' I wanna rush," Happy added, sitting back on his heels to inspect the work.

"I can take it," Tig assured him.

"Well, I don't wanna get on Cat's bad side, and I don't trust this ink, anyway. I wanna give it 24 hours, make sure it doesn't kill ya."

"Shit!" Tig grumbled.

Happy covered the ink bottle and rose to his feet. He dabbed a few more beads of blood that seeped from the places where the needle had punctured too deeply into Tig's skin. "Besides, these punctures need time to heal before I do any more work."

Tig reluctantly sat up and buttoned his shirt over his chest. "If ya say so," he sighed.

"Oh yes I do!" Happy barked. "I'm the guy with the experience in this stuff, anyway."

"A'right, a'right! Jesus Christ!" Tig grumbled. "I hear ya!"

Happy sat down on the bench beside Tig, clapping him on the shoulder. "I just wonder how Cat's gonna take it to find a tat dedicated to another woman on your chest!"

"She'll understand," he huffed.

"It's gonna make your chest look unbalanced, man," Happy retorted.

"Look, I don't wanna be a walkin' tattoo!" Tig snarled. "I'm fine with what I've got!"

"Take it easy, Tigger!" Happy laughed. "I'm simply suggestin' a small tat on the other side of your chest out of respect for your wife."

Tig's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Like what?"

"A cat tat, of course," Happy grinned.

"Lemme think on it and let ya know."

"I'll draw up some ideas for ya to pick from," Happy offered just as the alarm went off to signal the end of the exercise period.

"I'm not makin' any promises," Tig advised his friend as they walked toward the door.

Happy snorted a brief laugh. 'You will, once you see my designs.'

---

Hours had passed since Blaine Marshall had been brought to his assigned room at the speciality hospital. As soon as she and Cavey entered the room, Cat pulled a comfortable chair to the side of his bed, sat down, and covered one of his hands with hers.

Cavey was pleased that she chose to keep the wall at her back, though he realized that she'd be most out of the way of the monitoring equipment and the IVs. He winced at the sight of the frail man's hands bound in lambskin covered restraints. Though Cat had explained the necessity to him, it was still hard to see.

"It's not easy for me to accept, either, Cavey," she informed him softly. "Daddy's never had to be restrained in his life. I can only imagine how he feels about it." She didn't mention her family's familiarity with such things. There was no need to bring it up, but she felt certain her father had to have recalled the times her birth mother had been restrained in the same manner when it first happened to him.

His skin was hot to her touch, which concerned her. The nurse assured her it was merely because her father was running a low grade fever.

"Is that usual after a transfer?" She inquired worriedly.

"No, it's not. But your father's case isn't a usual case," the nurse replied. "I'd have been surprised if he wasn't running a slight fever. We'll treat that through the IV. His doctor is on the way to examine him."

Cavey gave the doctor a casual once over when he entered the room, but was satisfied that there was no way the man could be Cat's nemesis. He was far too old and short to meet the description. 'The asshat might be able to change his hair color, but he can't do much about his height!' He stepped out of the room during the exam to find the hospital security chief so he could discuss the situation with him.

Stewart Roberts, head of hospital security, had retired from the Indianapolis police department before it merged with the sheriff's department. He prided himself on recoginizing trouble, and Trouble had just entered his office in the form of the tall, denim and leather clad man.

"I need to speak with you on an urgent matter," the man stated in a voice that was tinged with a British accent.

That did nothing to stifle the alarm bells going off in Roberts' mind, but he gestured to one of the vacant chairs in front of his desk. "Suppose you tell me who I'm talkin' to, and then what's on your mind?"

"Fair enough," Cavey replied amiably, settling into the indicated chair. "My name is Cavey, I'm 'ere with Cat Trager. Her father, Rev. Blaine Marshall, was just admitted a few hours ago."

Roberts nodded his head. He was aware of the circumstances of the transfer. He was always notified of transfers coming in from other hospitals. He waited patiently for Cavey to continue, tenting his fingers in front of his mouth to hide the slight tension in his jaw.

"I'm a - friend - of Mrs. Trager's 'usband. 'E's got one of those contract jobs in Afghanistan and can't be with 'er," Cavey explained. He wasn't nervous by the former cop's scrutiny. He was quite used to getting the once over from all manner of law enforcement. "That's why me and my mates are 'ere, to protect 'er."

"From what?" Roberts growled.

Cavey outlined the situation concerning Cat and 'Brownie' for the security cheif. "Though the 'ospital in Vincennes doesn't lend any credibility to it, Cat is certain that the man is responsibile for tormenting 'er father, and may try to continue it 'ere," he added, giving Roberts the description the hospital had provided.

"I see. What makes her think he'll come all the way here if he's financially strapped?"

"Cat knows him well. If she thinks it's possible, that's good enough for me and my mates," Cavey growled.

Roberts sat forward in his chair, resting his hands flat on the desk in front of him. "Listen, son," he growled tensely. "I'm familiar with stalkers and shit. If she's that concerned, tell her to take out a Restraining Order on the asshole."

"That's somethin' 'er father did," Cavey countered.

"Doesn't help in this jurisdiction. I can put the word out, but if he's as good as changin' his features as you say, it won't do much good. We're not about to stop every tall male enterin' the hospital to check credentials!"

Cavey sensed that he was being dismissed. The security cheif's attitude wasn't much of a surprise to him; he was surprised he'd gotten as much time as Roberts had given him! "I figured as much, guv'ner. Just wanted to give you the 'eads up."

"You and your so - called 'mates' best be on your best behavior in here!" Roberts added tersely. "I'm not against bannin' the lot of ya from the grounds if you step outta line!"

"I'll pass that along, guv'ner," Cavey smirked grimly, lifting his hand to his head in a mock salute before he exited the office.

Cat awoke from a nap when she felt her father's hand move under hers. She sat up with a start and gazed expectantly at his face, hoping that his eyes might be open.

The doctor had left several hours earlier after conducting his intial examination of her father and assuring her that he was not in any danger.

"I planned that the trip would tire him despite the sedative, and that would cause a slight bit of temperature. It's no indication that the pnuemonia is getting worse. I'm just surprised that he hasn't started to come around."

"He's always had a hard time waking up after being sedated. I have the same issue," Cat informed the doctor. "I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't sleep through the entire visiting period!"

They discussed the 'DNR' and other issues in his health record, then the doctor departed to type a few notes into Rev. Marshall's chart.

Cavey returned a few minutes after the doctor left to check on her. "I talked to the 'ead of security about yer nemesis, but don't think 'e will be much 'elp."

Cat shrugged and waved at the other vacant chair in the room. She had the television tuned to a classic movie channel her father enjoyed, the volume was up just enough that she could hear it from the bed speaker.

"You don't seem surprised by this," Cavey observed quietly from his perch in the other chair. He glanced at Cat's father, who was sleeping peacefully under the bi - pap mask that covered his nose.

"No, I kind of expected y'all would get that kind of reception from the local yokel, but knew you had to at least try to tell him. And don't worry about wakin' Daddy," she added. "He can sleep through an earthquake under most circumstances. It always takes him longer to wake up from sedatives."

Her comment was puncuated by a very noisy rumble that caused her to blush. "Sorry about that, dude."

"When's the last time you ate, Lady Cat?"

"Oh, earlier today I think," she shrugged. "I'm not really hungry."

"That's bunk!" Cavey frowned. "What do you want from the cafeteria?"

"Nothin'."

"Tig warned Dopey you'd say that if we asked. He also said there's foods you can't eat, so either ya tell me what you want, or you'll 'ave to settle for what I choose."

"Christ! Y'all are soundin' like Tig!" Cat complained good naturedly. "OK, just some ice water, heavy on the ice if you please, and a ham salad or egg salad sandwich."

"That's it?"

"Trust me, darlin', it'll be more than enough."

Cavey sighed in resignation and departed for the cafeteria, returning a few moments later with a tray bearing food for both of them. They ate in a companionable silence, watching the black and white movie on the television suspended from the ceiling.

Cat fell asleep sometime between finishing her meal and BZ's arrival to spell Cavey. The two outlaws exchanged notes in the hallway so they wouldn't disturb her.

"Be sure to pass Roberts' warnin' on to the rest of the guys," BZ suggested as Cavey prepared to return to the apartment. "I sent the boys out earlier to look at those hi def televisions Cat was talkin' about, we got one for a pretty decent price, so she won't have to worry our entertainment."

"I doubt there's any porn goin' out over the air," Cavey grinned.

"Nah, but there is a channel that shows a lot of classic westerns. The guys are really gettin' into that."

Cat didn't wake up during most of BZ's duty. Nurses and other medical personnel came and went, checking on the patient's vitals or IV before departing without saying a word to him. BZ didn't take offense. He was used to being overlooked by the mundanes. The less attention the better as far as he was concerned.

Just before visiting hours were ending and BZ was thinking of waking her, Cat's father began to stir and his fingers moved under her hand.

She was instantly awake and alert.

"Daddy?" She called softly. "Can y'all hear me?"

Blaine moaned and moved his hand so that his fingers clasped hers. He gripped her hand for a moment before releasing them.

"Looks like a pretty good answer to me," BZ murmured.

"It's encouragin'," she nodded. "Can y'all open your eyes, Daddy?"

His eyes fluttered several times before staying open. He turned his face in her direction and whispered, "Cat? Is that really you?"

His voice was hoarse and weak, mostly from the drug induced sleep. Cat realized that some of it was due to his illness as well. Tears welled in her eyes but her voice was warm and firm. "Hi, Daddy. It's me. Do y'all know where you are?"

"Hospital," he wheezed.

"Do you know which one?"

He seemed to think it over for a moment. "Not Vincennes?"

"Correct. You're in a special hospital in Indianapolis. They're goin' to make y'all better."

"Thank God!" He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

Cat thought he was going back to sleep, but he gripped her hand harder.

"What is it, Daddy?"

"Your mother," he wheezed hoarsely. "Her payment is due tomorrow!"

Cat sighed inwardly. It was the end of the month, and the nursing home payment for her step mother was due the following day. Though she knew they wouldn't put her step mother out on the street if the payment was a day late, that wouldn't keep her father from worrying about it. "Y'all want me to go home and make the payment for y'all," she stated.

"Please. Checkbooks are next to my recliner in the pocket holder. You have authority to sign them."

"And you'll behave yourself if I make the road trip tonight?"

He nodded, gripping her hand again. "You can stay overnight and come back tomorrow."

BZ started to say something, but Cat silenced him with a look. "Later," she frowned, adding in a tender tone to her father, "I'll take care of it, Daddy."

"Thank you," he sighed in relief. He still clung to her hand as if he was afraid to let her go.

"What do you need to tell me, Daddy?" She inquired, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I can tell it's important to you."

"B - 'Brownie' is back," he wheezed. "I - I saw him. In my room."

"Yes, Daddy. He's the janitor that upset y'all. Unfortunately, Good Samaritan isn't convinced of that."

"Be careful," he sighed.

"I will be. You rest, and I'll see y'all when I get back," she replied. She stood up, leaned over the bed, and kissed his stubbly cheek. "I love you, Daddy."

"Love you," he sighed before his eyes closed.

BZ didn't speak until they were out in the hall, well out of her father's ability to hear them. "Are ya crazy, lady? You can't expect to make such a trip tonight!"

"I have to, BZ," she replied quietly. She stopped at the nurse's station, preventing him from replying right away. He walked on to the elevator area, leaned against the window sill, and fumed while he waited for her.

"May I help you?" The nurse inquired politely.

"Yes. Cat Trager, Rev. Marshall's daughter."

"Yes, ma'am." The nurse waited expectantly.

"Just wondered if someone can see to helpin' Daddy shave. He hates facial hair, and it doesn't look like he's shaved in the last few days. His hair could do with a little attention, too. It's very dry and flat."

"We can take care of that for him," the nurse assured her.

Cat nodded and made sure the nurses knew how to reach her if the need arose. "I have to make a trip to Vincennes overnight, take care of some business for him. But I'll have my cell on me if all y'all need me."

"Yes, Mrs. Trager. That number's in the record."

"And I'm stayin' in an apartment near the hospital," she added, providing the address to the nurse.

"Are you OK, Mrs. Trager? You look all in," the nurse asked concernedly.

"I'm tired, but I've got friends lookin' out for me," she assured the nurse.

"Ah, the 'gentlemen' who've been with you today," the nurse glowered.

"Yes," Cat frowned, sensing the condescending attitude in the nurse's tone of voice. "They're good men; friends of my husband's. He's overseas, otherwise he'd be here."

The nurse flushed, thinking that she'd just insulted a military veteran. Cat didn't feel any remorse over misleading the nurse. It was technically correct as Alex had been in the Marines, and she suspected most of the Illinois charter members were military vets as well. 'Not my fault if she's makin' the wrong assumption! The guys don't deserve to be treated with disdain like that!'

Just as she entered the lobby where BZ was waiting, her cell phone's unique ring tone for Alex began playing. BZ winced when he heard the song. 'That's not funny, but in a way it is!' He brought his hand to the bridge of his nose in a very Alex like gesture that made Cat's heart constrict a bit.

"Hey, love!" She moved off to a nearby chair and sat down, her face lit up with a smile of anticipation.

"Hey back. Blaine get in OK?"

"Earlier. He's restin' again, but he woke up to greet me and ask me to run an errand," she replied.

"What kind of errand?" Alex growled worriedly. He massaged the bridge of his nose with his free hand. 'I've got a bad feelin' about this!'

"I've gotta go to Vincennes and pay for Mom's nursing home rent for the month. It's due tomorrow," she explained.

'Shit! I knew it!' His hand clenched the receiver as he protested, "Cat! You can't make that trip tonight! It's too much on ya!"

"I can, and I will. One of the guys will go with me," she assured him. "I promised, love."

"They won't turn your step mom out for bein' late one day!" He pleaded.

"True, but Daddy will worry about it anyway," she replied. "I don't have enough ready cash to cover it myself, and even if I did, they don't have an electronic transfer system."

"Shit! I don't like it, baby!"

"Really? I couldn't tell!" She drawled sarcastically.

"You're gonna pay for that, woman!" He growled. "I know you're tired, but that's no excuse for bein' disrespectful!"

"Yeah, yeah!" She laughed. "I didn't mean to snap, love."

"It's a damn good thing I happen to like ya, woman, or you'd really be sorry!" He grinned. "Listen, baby, if you're intendin' on making this road trip -"

"I am," she interjected.

"As I was sayin'," he retorted dryly, "take two of the guys with ya. If that asshat is lurkin' around, I'll feel better knowin' you're protected. And let them drive!"

"I fully intend to!" She replied, glaring across the room at BZ. "I swear you guys all think alike. BZ was givin' me what for over this very issue before y'all called."

"As I'd expect!" Alex stated. Alpha maleness oozed in his voice.

"Yeah, well enjoy this little win of yours while y'all can!" She growled.

"I will, baby! Believe me, I will!" There was a brief silence between them before Alex added, "Seriously, baby. Keep your eyes open. I hope one of the guys brought a spare for ya. If so, carry it."

"I will, love," she promised emphatically. "Miss y'all."

"Back atcha, baby. You know I'll be callin' in the mornin'," he replied softly.

She winced. That meant an early call for her with the time difference. "Y'all don't have to, love."

"Yes, I do baby. Talk to ya later," he informed her before breaking the connection.

She smiled at the dark phone, then shoved it in her pocket. "Can we hold off on the debate until we get to the apartment?" She inquired, standing up and wearily making her way to the elevator.

"Sure," BZ agreed, punching the down button for her. "I gather Tig wasn't happy about the road trip, either."

"You could say that."

The doors slid open and they stepped into the car. BZ punched the ground floor button while Cat leaned wearily against the wall. "I just did."

---

Tig stormed away from the pay phones without waiting for Clay. Fortunately, the SAMCRO prez had finished his conversation with Gemma and was able to catch up with his friend and bodyguard.

"What's wrong now, Tig?" Clay murmured, falling into step beside him.

"Nothin'!" Tig grunted.

"Jesus Christ, Tig! Seems lately every time you've gotten off the phone with your woman, you're in a foul mood! Now what the fuck is wrong?" Clay thundered.

Tig glared at his friend for a moment then growled, "Everything!"

"Cat's dad?"

"Nah, he's a'right. Cat's gotta make a road trip tonight," Tig grumbled.

"Is that all?" Clay laughed, then quickly sobered in response to the SAA's reproachful glare. "Sorry, but ya had me thinkin' the worst had happened."

"It's bad enough. She's worn out, Helen Keller could hear it in her voice, and it's a two hour trip one way!" Tig explained.

"The Illinois charter is with her, they won't let her go off on her own," Clay reminded him.

"Ya think I don't know that?"

"You're actin' like it," Clay pointed out. "What's really buggin' ya about the trip? You don't usually go all mother hen about her goin' off on a trip somewhere."

Tig stopped and turned to Clay. His anguish was written all over his face. "She has to go to Vincennes and she'll be right in that fucktard's sights!"

Clay's face turned white. "Why is she doin' that? Doesn't she know what that'll do to ya?"

"She knows, but she doesn't have any choice about goin' there. Her step mom's monthly payment is due and the nursin' home isn't set up for electronic transfers. If she doesn't go, Blaine will work himself up into another setback."

"Owtch!" Clay winced. "No wonder you're upset!"

"You're right about one thing, she's gonna take two of the guys with her. They know what to watch for," Tig sighed in resignation. "If she's lucky, she'll slip in and out of town without him ever knowin'."

"We can hope," Clay agreed.

"Nothin' more I can do about it until mornin' anyway," Tig shrugged, turning away and walking on back towards their cell block.

"And you'll be callin' her first thing," Clay smirked. They walked in silence for a few moments then Clay added softly, "If it helps ya any, I'd be feelin' much the same way if it were Gemma."

---

Cat drove as far as the nearest gas station to fill the Dart's tank for the trip to Vincennes. Black Robbin pulled rank and forced her to allow him to drive the rest of the way.

"The car's got a GPS, so just plug in the address we're goin' to and I'll follow the map!" He growled, holding the passenger seat door open for her. Shank was leaning against the driver's door so she couldn't get back behind the wheel.

"I don't mind, guys!" She protested weakly, struggling to keep a yawn from escaping.

"Well, we do!" Shank grumbled. "We wanna arrive in one piece. We're rested, you aren't, so ya might as well give in!"

"Fine!" She snorted, opening the rear door and climbing inside the car. "I'll just stretch out here and nap." She hated to admit it, but the bench seat looked almost as inviting as a bed.

The two outlaws started to protest, as Shank had planned to sit in the back seat to keep an eye out on their back end, but Cat raised a warning hand to cut them off. "Look, I'll be more comfortable back here, and Shank'll have more room up front for his legs," she explained.

The two men exchanged glances, then nodded at her. "A'right," Shank sighed, climbing into the passenger seat.

It didn't take long for sleep to overcome her, and she slept the entire trip to Vincennes. It hadn't been easy for her to convince the club members of the necessity for the trip. The six men put up as much restance as Tig had given her.

"Guys, if I had enough in my personal account to cover the payment, I would," she sighed.

"Doesn't the government pay it for her?" Shank grumbled. "It does for my grandma."

"Nope, she's full self pay. With Daddy in the hospital and unable to sign the checks, I'm the only other person who can take care of this!"

"What about your brother, the trucker?" Grim Bastard inquired tersely.

"That's the problem, he's on the road alot, and it comes back to the nursing home not being set up for electronic transfers. There's really no room for discussion on this, except for all y'all to decide who's goin' on the trip with me," she replied assertively.

She left the club's apartment and returned to her own to put together a small travel bag of necessities, including her cell charger and the wooden felines. A few minutes later, she answered a knock at her door to find Shank and Black Robbin carrying duffel bags.

"Looks like all y'all are ready," she observed unnecessarily, stepping past them and locking her door behind her. "Let's get this show on the road."

The trio didn't leave Indianapolis until well after 11pm, so it was very late when they finally arrived in Vincennes. Shank had taken over the driving from Yum in Terre Haute. He had no difficulty finding the Marshall house. He pulled the Dodge into the drive and turned off the engine.

The silence woke Cat from her nap. She sat up in the back seat and gazed uncertainly out the window. Her confusion changed to relief when she recognized the exterior of her father's house. "We're here at last!"

"Looks that way," Shank grunted. He was trying to find the trunk release.

"Just use the remote on the keyfob, Shank," Cat suggested as she opened her door. She stood up gingerly, allowing her legs to get used to standing, then moved to the trunk to retrieve her bag.

"I'll get that, Lady Cat," Black Robbin stated. "You go ahead and unlock the door for us."

Cat fished her keys from her pocket, walked up the three steps to the front door and unlocked it. She flipped on the light switch and grimaced at the sight of the 'nest' that circled her father's recliner.

'Damn! He really was in bad shape! This is as bad as it was when Alex and I were here!' She observed sadly. She stepped aside to allow Shank and Black Robbin to enter. "The bedrooms are on down the hall," she gestured for them. "You two can have the bedrooms, I'll take the couch."

They both protested loudly at that suggestion.

"No, I'll take the couch, in case Daddy's friend comes by in the mornin'," Cat explained.

Shank and Black Robbin exchanged glances. They couldn't argue with her logic. "We're in her territory, she knows the lay of the land better than we do," Shank mused.

"Yeah, her father's friend might call the cops if one of us opened the door," Yum agreed.

"Let me grab a blanket out of the guest room," she grinned. "Trust me, I'll sleep better on the sofa anyway."

She pointed out the bathrooms and where the guys could find towels and washcloths. "Good nite, guys!" She called from the living room.

"'Nite, Cat," they yawned. Both outlaws left the bedroom doors open in case they might be needed.

Cat settled down on the couch, drawing the blanket over her. It seemed like only minutes before she was awakened by the doorbell. She glanced out the window to find a police car instead of Mac's van sitting in the drive.

"Shit!" She snarled. "I hope that didn't wake the guys!"

Her hopes were dashed by their disheveled appearance in the hallway. 'I might've known they wouldn't sleep through it!' She raised a hand to stop them. "Cops!" She mouthed.

They nodded and stepped back into the doorway of the guest room. The blinds were drawn tight in that room, so the police officer wouldn't be able to see inside.

"Comin'!" Cat called out sleepily when the doorbell rang a second time, followed by an authoritative knocking on the door.

"Vincennes Police!" The male voice announced.

"Be right there!" She called, unwrapping herself from the blanket. She stumbled to the door, opened it, and stood at the threshold. "Good mornin', officer. What seems to be the problem?"

"You can tell me who you are, ma'am," the officer replied. His face was set in stone and his voice was as cold as a freezer.

"Cat Marshall Trager," she replied in a friendly manner. "I'm Rev. Marshall's daughter."

"I'll need to see your ID, ma'am," the officer stated. "The neighbors called because there was a strange car in the drive this morning."

"Sure," Cat replied in the same friendly tone. "Glad to know the neighbors are keepin' a look out." She dug her wallet out of her back pocket, opened it, withdrew her CA driver's license and handed it to the officer.

He scanned it, looked up at her, then back at the picture before handing the license back to her. "OK. Why are you here? We were told your father was transferred to a hospital in Indianapolis."

"He was. I have power of attorney for Daddy; I came down to make the monthly nursin' home payment for Mom, then I'm headin' back up to be with Daddy," she explained. "He left the checkbooks here."

The officer stared at her a few more moments. Something didn't feel right to him, but he had no reason to enter the house unless she let him. She seemed relaxed and unconcerned, except for standing in the doorway and not inviting him in.

"Is there anything else I can help you with officer?" Cat inquired smoothly, covering a wide yawn with her hand. "Pardon me. I'm still a little tired from the flight from California."

The officer flushed and took a step back towards his cruiser. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I forgot that you don't live here."

"Have a good day, officer," Cat replied, shutting the door and locking it before he could reply. She backed away from the front door, watching out the sheer drape over the window as he climbed into his cruiser and backed out of the drive. She didn't relax until the cruiser turned onto the highway from the street.

"OK, y'all! It's clear!" She called to the nervously waiting outlaws.

The two men walked into the living room, relief evident on their faces. "Ya handled him pretty well, Lady Cat," Shank observed. There was a new level of respect in his voice for her.

"Had a bit of practice dealin' with the Feds," she shrugged. "Why don't y'all go back and catch some more snooze? The nursin' home office won't be open for a few more hours yet."

"What about you?" Yum inquired.

"I'm goin' to call Daddy's friend Mac, so he won't be showin' up here later and causin' stress," she explained as she picked up her cell.

She made the call to her father's friend, explaining the reason she was in town. "I'm at Daddy's, catching some sleep before the office opens, then I'm goin' to pay Mom's bill, handle some other business, and head back up."

"Do you want me to come out?"

Cat battled down a feeling of guilt. She liked her father's friend, but she didn't want him worrying about the two men accompanying her. "I'm really tired, Mac. The trip here took a lot out of me. Can I give y'all a rain check?"

"Sure, Cat. I know you wouldn't be here if your father hadn't managed the trip up," Mac assured her, though he did sound disappointed.

"He was still pretty sleepy, but he did well. Feel free to call me anytime y'all want an update," she replied to take the sting out of her refusal.

"I'll do that. Be safe goin' back, little girl," Mac stated before he hung up.

Cat was about to turn off her cell when the unique ring tone for Alex sounded off. "Grand Central Station!" She announced grumpily.

"Good mornin' to you, too, baby!" Alex laughed. "I forgot how grumpy ya can be!"

"Y'all would be grumpy, too, if you got awakened by the cops!" She grumbled.

"Been there, done that!" Alex retorted saucily.

"I'm sure ya handled the local."

"With flyin' colors, love," she assured him. "The neighbors called about a strange car in the drive."

"Noisy, eh?"

"Nah, just lookin' out for Daddy's best interests. The cop never knew that the guys were standin' in the hallway listenin' in to our conversation. The cop was satisfied once he checked my ID."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of ya satisfyin' another man!" Alex growled possessively.

"Down, boy!" She grinned. "Y'all know what I meant!"

"I'm just sayin'!"

"Y'all have no worries, love. I called Daddy's friend and warned him off comin' out to visit," she added. "He accepted jet lag as a valid excuse."

"So what's your plan?"

"Make the payment, say 'hi' to Mom, transfer some money while I'm down here, and get back to Indy before mid afternoon," she replied.

Alex winced at the tiredness he could hear in her voice. "You let the guys handle the drivin' back."

"I intend to, love."

"That was too easy, who the Hell are ya and what'd ya do with my wife?"

"Very funny!" She growled. "If y'all are goin' to be disrespectful, I'm goin' to hang up!"

"No ya won't. Ya like the sound of my voice too much!" He grinned wickedly.

"Hmpf! I hate it when y'all are right! Besides, the guys are as stubborn as you when it comes to gettin' their way about drivin'. I'm just too tired to fight with 'em."

"Good. The sooner you're outta that asshat's radar, the happier I'm goin' to be!" Alex informed her.

"Love, the chances of him findin' out I'm in town are two; slim and none," she reassured him.

"Maybe, but I'll still feel better when you're back in Indianapolis!" Alex insisted.

"Be honest, love. Y'all will feel even better when I'm back home," she countered.

"You took the words right outta my mouth, baby."

---

Bill Vaughn smiled triumphantly as he read the email from the security chief. "You wouldn't have had to go to all that trouble if you'd listened to me in the first place!"

He left his office to deliver the good news to Evan himself. He headed for the smoking area, where he knew Evan would be taking his break.

'Brownie' observed his supervisor's approach and steeled himself for bad news. He relaxed as soon as he noticed that Vaughn was smiling. 'Managers never smile when they're deliverin' bad news!' He reminded himself.

"Got good news for you, Evan!" Vaughn announced when he stopped next to his employee.

"What's that, boss?"

"Your story checked out with Riley. He's closing the investigation."

"I hope you weren't worried, boss!" 'Evan' smiled. He inwardly sighed with relief; he had worried Riley might dig further than the service door scans.

"Of course not! You had a valid reason for bein' here the other night," Vaughn replied. "I just thought you'd like to know you're off the hook."

"I appreciate it, boss," 'Evan' grinned, stuffing his cigarette butt in the ashcan. "Not that I was worried either," he lied. "But you never know with these security types."

"This is true. I wouldn't want to be in Riley's shoes right now. He's breakin' the bad news to the patient's daughter." Vaughn chuckled.

"I'm sure she'll come to realize that it was all just a big misunderstandin'," 'Evan' shrugged. "Well, break's over, guess I'd better get back to it. Thanks again for standin' up for me."

"You do good work, Evan," Vaughn assured him. "I could use more like you."

'Not for much longer,' 'Brownie' thought as he walked away. He intended to try out his collegiate disguise after he got off work. He wanted to see how well he would blend in with the student population.

His anger and resentment for Cat Marshall continued to simmer. It was her fault that he'd been put under the microscope in the first place! 'Assholes like her and Riley never give up! She'll say somethin' to have him keep nosin' around! Not that he's gonna have much success with it!' It was another in a long list of grievances he held against the woman he hated.

---

Cat set up the coffee pot to brew before she went back to sleep, just in case the outlaws woke up before her and wanted coffee. She was still tired, but not as exhausted as she'd been before they'd left Indianapolis.

Shank and Yum did indeed wake up a few hours after the cop's visit. There had been no other knocks on the door from unwanted visitors. They stumbled silently through the living room to the kitchen, making sure not to disturb her. They hoped to find something to eat and found a note taped to the refrigerator.

"Good mornin' again! The coffeepot is set up, all you have to do is turn it on. Daddy keeps frozen breakfast sandwiches in the freezer that can be microwaved. There's cereal in the cupboard next to the stove, the milk's still good. We'd best use it before we leave. If you're up before me, give me a half hour more to sleep. Cat'

They had no problem using the microwave and heated up a few breakfast sandwiches while the coffee brewed. The fresh aroma of brewing coffee made their mouths water. They found coffee cups and were soon chowing down on their breakfast.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee woke Cat from a sound sleep. She folded up the blanket and returned it to the guest room closet, wincing to find that the bed was unmade. She quickly made the beds in both bedrooms, took care of some personal business, then joined the men in the kitchen. "Looks like all y'all are eatin' well," she remarked dryly, noting the amount of food on their plates.

"We were hungry," Shank muttered.

"It's a'right. I'll check the freezer in the garage, and if we need to restock, we can do that before we leave," she replied, pouring a cup of coffee for herself.

"Ain't ya gonna eat?" Black Robbin asked.

"Not a breakfast sandwich. I can't handle 'em," she replied. She looked in the freezer and found a box of microwavable waffles. "These will do."

Shank dubiously eyed the steaming plate of waffles she set on the table. "Where's the syrup?"

"Too sweet for me. I avoid sugar like the plague," she grinned. "Spread and sugar free jam will work just fine."

The two shook their heads. They couldn't fathom that anyone could like waffles without syrup! It just wasn't done.

Cat ignored them and concentrated on eating her breakfast. She discussed the day's game plan with her guardians between bites. "We'd better start at the financial planner's office so I can get money transferred."

"Why?" Shank asked.

"In case Daddy's there more than a month. It'll prevent havin' to make a return trip for the same reason," she replied. "I can mail 'em a check before the next payment's due."

"Good thinkin'," Yum nodded approvingly.

Cat favored him with 'The Look' before continuing, "I'll go make the payment and visit Mom for a bit. Then we'll make a grocery run to replenish what y'all scarfed down."

"Sorry. We were hungry," Black Robbin replied, squirming in his chair under her scrutiny.

"It's a'right," she grinned playfully. "I always leave the place in the same condition I found it in. Which reminds me, thanks for makin' your beds!"

The men gazed in confusion at each other. Neither of them had made their beds and they hadn't intended to. "Ain't that what wimmin are 'sposed to do?" Shank inquired.

Cat glared at him over her eyeglasses without giving him a verbal response. She finished the last of her breakfast, leaving them to figure out the answer for themselves.

"I think that means no, brother," Yum remarked sheepishly.

"I think you're right," Shank muttered.

"All y'all catch on fast!" Cat smirked, gathering up the dishes and taking them to the sink. "I took care of it, but when we get back to Indy, all y'all are on your own. I'm not a maid!"

"I gotta piss!" Shank murmured, scurrying from the kitchen.

"I'm gonna pack!" Yum added, scampering after his brother, leaving Cat smiling in amusement. She poured the last of the coffee in her cup and cleaned the dishes, leaving them in the dish drainer to air dry. She turned off the coffeepot and unplugged it, then checked to make sure that nothing was turned on that might pose a fire hazard.

Shank and Yum were waiting in the living room for her. Their duffel bags and her small bag were sitting next to the door. "You ready to go, Lady Cat?"

"Yeah, and I'm drivin' around town," she announced, holding her hand out for the keys. "I know where I'm goin' better than all y'all. You can drive back to Indy."

"I'll bet Tig had somethin' to say about that!" Yum retorted, reluctantly handing over the car keys.

"He did, which is the only reason I agreed to let all y'all handle the drivin' back to Indy in the first place!" She chuckled.

The men picked up the bags and carried them out to the car, loading the trunk while she locked the house. Though they'd be returning long enough to unload the groceries, there was no reason to leave their bags in the house.

They completed the errands in just a few hours. The two riders opted to sit outside the nursing home so they could smoke and soak up some sun. That would allow Cat to visit her step mother in private.

The administrators at the nursing home asked about her father's condition. Cat explained that he had made the trip OK while she made the payment. "Now it's just a matter of him responding well to the treatment," she added. She didn't mention the equipment tampering. There was no reason to do so, and she didn't want to raise unneccesary alarm.

The visit with her step - mother was brief. She asked several times when Cat's father was coming to visit. 'It's her Altzheimer's,' she kept reminding herself so she wouldn't lose her temper. She kindly assured her step - mother each time that her father was battling a virus and didn't want to be exposed to more germs. "I'm sure he'll visit y'all when he's well, Mom," she said again, kissing her step - mother goodbye. "I just came to check on y'all, but gotta go take care of him."

Cat sighed in relief to cross the nursing home's front entrance. "I love her dearly, but having to answer the same question 40 times in 10 minutes is exhausting!" She explained to her companions.

"I don't think I could handle that without losin' my cool," Yum admitted.

"I had to keep remindin' myself it wasn't her fault," she replied.

They made the grocery run, and restocked Rev. Marshall's breakfast foods. As Cat was locking the door again, the two men complained that they were starved.

Cat shook her head in mock dismay, then offered to take them to a favorite restuarant near the university. "They serve good food - and a lot of it - without chargin' an arm and a leg for it."

"Sounds good to me!" Shank grinned, patting his growling stomach.

---

'Brownie' was more than pleased by the test of his student disguise. He roamed all over campus and no one gave him a second look. 'Not bad for an old man!' He gloated to himself.

He decided to treat himself to a paid meal at a favored student hangout. The locally owned restuarant was well known by the students for offering 'comfort food' at reasonable prices. He looked forward to a full meal for once, instead of whatever he could filch at the hospital.

'I'm gonna have to be careful about that now,' He mused grimly as he approached the resturant entrance. 'Riley's gonna be watchin' me like a hawk for the smallest infraction!' Not that he was overly concerned. He knew many ways to avoid keeping his less than legal activities in the hospital from being detected.

He entered the restaraunt and looked around while he waited for the hostess to seat him. His mouth nearly fell to the floor when he spotted his long time nemesis sitting at a table. He narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses when he saw that she wasn't alone. Two rugged looking men were dining with her.

'Shit! She's not alone!' He barely heard the hostess ask if he preferred a table or a booth. "Table," he replied automatically. He followed the hostess on auto pilot. His gaze was riveted to the occupied table.

One of the men glanced at him as he passed. Their gazes met briefly and the man's eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'Brownie' quickly looked away, hoping the damage hadn't already been done.

"Ya got a problem, bro?" Black Robbin asked grimly.

"N - no, sir!" 'Brownie' stuttered, forcing his voice into a higher register. 'Talk about takin' the ultimate test!'

"Yum, please sit down," Cat protested. "The guy's just a student. He's obviously not a threat."

The man she addressed as 'Yum' glared at 'Brownie', mentally comparing him to the two descriptions he'd been given. 'The height's right, but the colorin's all wrong. "Eyes elsewhere, asshole," Black Robbin growled before resuming his seat.

'Brownie' breathed an inward sigh of relief and hurried after the hostess, who was placing a menu on a table not far from Cat's. 'That was too close!'

"That guy who we're lookin'out for?" Shank asked his friend.

"Not sure," Shank growled, keeping his gaze locked on the man. "He was givin' us the hairy eyeball. as he approached."

Yum glanced over his shoulder. He didn't see anything alarming about the lone male sitting at the table. "Looks like just another student to me, just as Cat said."

She had watched the student's departure, looking for any resemblance to her former love. She didn't see any resemblance to Cory Brown in any of his previous incarnations. This man was darker skinned, clean shaven, and black haired. "He's a little older than most students, but nothin' about him's raisin' the hair on the back of my neck," she replied.

"He might've served in the military before enterin' college," Yum observed.

"Yeah, or served some other kind of time," Shank added. "That would account for his age."

"I am bothered by his interest in us," Cat frowned. "We're not that unusual."

"He scurried off like a mouse when I challenged him," Yum remarked. "Maybe he was just interested in ya, Cat, wonderin' what a nice gal like you is doin' with us."

"I suppose so," she shrugged.

'Brownie' pretended to concentrate on the menu in front of him. He could see Cat and her companions, but he wasn't able to eavesdrop on the conversation. He didn't have to read lips to know they were discussing him. He relaxed after several minutes passed and neither of the men got up to confront him.

He removed the sunglasses and put them in his jacket pocket. It was a great test of the colored contacts he'd purchased through the mercenary grapevine. The contacts changed the ice blue to a warm brown. If there was any chance that Cat would recognize him, it would be without the sunglasses on, despite the eye color.

The waitress took his order and he sat back in his chair in a relaxed manner, centering his attention on one of the televisions suspended from the ceiling, which was tuned to an all sports channel. Cat and her companions finished their meal without paying any further attention to him. He watched out of the corner of his eye as they stood up, paid for their meal, and walked out to the shiny red Dodge Dart he'd noticed earlier in the parking lot. He grinned in triumph.

'Brownie' removed a pen from his jacket pocket and wrote down the license plate on his napkin. He stuffed it in his jacket pocket just as the watiress returned with his order. He'd check the license plate registration through his contacts later. 'Likely it's a rental, but it'll be easy to find out from the rental agency where she can be reached in Indy!'

He watched the Dodge back out of its' parking spot. The man who'd glared at him was driving. Cat was reclining in the back seat. The other man riding shotgun. As the Dart pulled out of the parking lot, 'Brownie' lifted a hand, one finger pointing out and the thumb raised. He lowered his thumb a couple of times and whispered. "Soon."