"Mary Mother of Christ." Chibs, evidently with a view past Kozik from where he stood with the rest of the guys at the back of the truck, uttered the words quietly.

Tig furrowed his brow. What the fuck were the pair of them going on about? Shouldering Kozik aside, he wrenched the panel the rest of the way open so he could see into the space behind.

His jaw dropped, too shocked to even find a curse to give vent to his surprise. Markoski's fake wall wasn't hiding cigarettes or booze. Not even guns, which at least would've made sense to Tig.

Huddled together in the tight space were three very wide-eyed women—no, girls, he amended, estimating they weren't older than eighteen— goggling back up at him.

Tears gleamed in their eyes and their rapid breathing was loud in the stunned silence that had fallen over the truck. With an effort, Tig closed his mouth and gave the girls a dirty scowl, as if it was their fault he still couldn't come up with any words. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was going on here?

"What the hell are you doin' in there?" Kozik squawked. It was as dumb a question as dumb questions could go, but right now Tig couldn't blame him. At least he'd managed to say something.

The only reply from the girls was another frightened whimper and more petrified blinks. Their gazes skittered from Kozik to Tig and back again and again, like rabbits confronted by a fox.

The truck rocked slightly as someone else climbed in. An instant later, Chibs wormed himself between Tig and Kozik for a better look. All three girls gaped at the sight of the Scotsman's face—at his scars, Tig realized, after a moment.

"Oi, Otto!" Chibs' brogue was even stronger than usual, and Tig had trouble understanding Chibs' next words. "Think Luanne's got a job for these 'ere lasses?"

The girls cowered back against the wall, though Tig doubted they had any clue what Chibs had asked—or what it meant.

"Prob'bly not." Otto had no problem catching what Chibs was saying, and his reply was swift.

"Aye, I guess not," Chibs muttered, almost to himself. His stunned smirk changed into something more compassionate.

"C'mon, your ugly mugs are scaring them." Kozik shook himself and took a step back. He tugged at Chibs' arm and beckoned Tig away as well. "Let's give these girls some breathing room."

As soon as they'd all moved off a few paces, one of the girls, a pretty brunette who was too skinny for Tig's taste, started jabbering in a language he didn't understand.

"Oi, English," Chibs scolded.

The girls flinched again. They exchanged a look, and then the girl on the left, a blonde with long, straight hair, said haltingly, "No speak good English."

"No shit." Tig was beginning to wish Kozik had never caught on to Markoski's false wall. Look at the crap that had landed at their feet because of it. What was the club gonna do with three chicks who were clearly illegal aliens and couldn't even speak proper English? He turned around fully to face the rest of his brothers, hands out to either side. "What the fuck are we gonna do with them?"

For a long moment, nobody answered. Even Clay seemed to have no idea what their next move should be. Happy was the first to find his voice. "Leave 'em. They ain't our business. Stick to the plan."

Behind Tig, one of the girls made a soft, mewling noise. Tig wasn't sure how much they could understand, but between Hap's expression and his tone, he couldn't fault them for growing even more terrified. Besides, even if they could make sense of what was being said, he doubted they'd be any happier being left in Markoski's clutches.

Kozik had lowered himself in a crouch and was muttering something soothingly. Tig suppressed a snicker. Did he think they were dealing with frightened kittens? Jesus, this whole situation gave new meaning to the term FUBAR.

No, Hap was right: easiest thing would be to load Markoski's pals into the truck with the girls and get the hell outta Dodge. They could forget they'd ever seen the women. What use did they have for trafficked pussy, anyway? None, that was what. No, those girls were of no value to Samcro. They were a liability, in fact. And yet...

He sought out Clay among the pack of Sons. The president wasn't usually one to let his feelings shine through in his expression, but he looked as indecisive as Tig felt. It wasn't often Clay got caught out like this.

Tig waggled his eyebrows. What do I do?

Clay gave a brief shake and started riffling through his cut until he fished out his phone. Holding it up so Tig would know to wait for him to make a call, he turned away and started dialing. Calling Unser, Tig realized, as soon as Clay started to talk. Made sense. This kinda crap was way over their pay grade.

Leaving Clay to hammer things out with Unser, Tig turned back to the girls. "Let's get them out of there." Whatever Unser suggested, Tig doubted it would include abandoning the girls in their cramped space in the truck.

Kozik started to explain to the trio that it was safe for them to come out, nobody would hurt them. They hesitated for a few moment longer, and then, he and Chibs were helping them gather themselves onto trembling legs. All three of them were wearing cheap sneakers and shirts that were too thin for an October night in the hills, and they clustered together, shivering.

"Alright." Clay snapped his phone shut. "Unser says to bring 'em to Charming. Take 'em to his warehouse to hand them over. He'll take care of the rest."

"What about those assholes?" Otto dipped a head toward their three prisoners. "Does he want them, too?"

"Nope." Clay shook his head. "Says he can't make a case." He sniffed. "We compromised any potential evidence. All he can do is tip off INS to keep a close eye on Markoski."

"Shit." Tig swore as he vaulted down from the truck to join his president on the road. He wouldn't have minded seeing the bastards processed into the system. Smuggling guns or cigarettes was no big deal but trafficking teenagers? Now he'd gotten over his shock he was clear on one thing: that shit was just wrong.

"Well, look at it this way," Otto reminded them all, "the plan was to send Markoski a message, right? What better message than to mess up his flesh trade?"

Tig thought it over. "Guess it'll do."

Clay stashed his phone back into his pocket as he watched Chibs and Kozik helping the girls down from the truck. "Put 'em in the squad car with Kozik. Less suspicious that way."

Kozik tossed an unhappy look in their direction. Tig could almost hear his mental groan. But Clay was right; nobody would look twice at a cop car meeting the chief of police to hand over a few girls. Besides, what other choice did they have? State those chicks were in, they wouldn't survive riding bitch; if they didn't freeze their asses off, they'd not hold on past the first curve. If they put them in the van with Piney, they'd never hear the end of it. And Kozik seemed to be developing something of a rapport with the girls in a way none of the other guys were. Maybe it was the uniform. Whatever the reason, they should take advantage of it.

"No fuckin' wonder ATF never could get a thing on Markoski." Otto joined Tig, hands in pockets, head cocked, as they watched Kozik and Chibs herd the trio toward the patrol car. "They were looking for the wrong fuckin' thing."

As they move past the front of the truck, the girls caught sight of the prisoners sitting in the road, glowering over their gags. Their footsteps faltered and they bunched together. Then the blonde chick, the one who seemed to speak a few words of English, pressed her lips together in a thin line and broke away from her friends. Before Kozik could catch her, she'd kicked the closest of the prisoners in the nuts.

"Ow," Tig muttered in unwilling sympathy, as a high-pitched scream escaped through the guy's gag and he curled around himself as much as the ropes let him.

The girl drew her leg back for another kick.

"Whoa, sweetheart, that's enough." Kozik took her by the elbow and pulled her away.

She spat at the whimpering prisoner, her eyes flashing angrily. "Is pig."

Chibs began to laugh. "Ye're a feisty one, ain't ye?"

She turned a puzzled look on Chibs. "What is feisty?" Chibs only laughed harder.

"Gutsy. Courageous. C'mon." Tightening his hold on her arm, Kozik guided her back to her friends and urged them all forward again. All three of them kept casting Markoski's men looks filled with a mixture of fear and hatred until Kozik pulled open the back door of the patrol car and ushered them in.

Tig made his way over as Kozik head around the car to the driver's side. Ducking his head to peer inside and check the girls were settled, Tig warned, "Straight to Unser's, you hear?" He glanced up and waggled a meaningful brow at Kozik.

Kozik rolled his eyes. "You were born being a dick, weren't you?"

"And you're a fuckin' saint." Tig's expression sobered as he straightened. "Don't forget to pick up Boots. And go slow. Give us a few more minutes to clean up."

Kozik nodded to show he understood: as soon as Boots got in the car and abandoned his post down the road, the club would be exposed to any traffic coming up from the highway. But they wouldn't need much time: just enough to load Markoski's men into the truck and get out of the area. Otto and Happy were already dealing with the prisoners, while Piney was putting the van into gear and rumbling off.

"Okay, go." Tig flicked a hand for Kozik to get behind the wheel.

"I'll get Bobby," Otto announced. Chibs and Hap were already locking up the truck. "Bring him up to speed. See you guys back at the club house."

Tig waved in acknowledgment and Otto trotted over to the clump of trees behind which they'd hidden their bikes. Bobby wasn't gonna believe what Otto had to tell him.

Tig double-checked the truck doors were locked tight and cast a final look around to make sure the scene was clean. Satisfied there was nothing to tie the Sons to the ambush, he got on his bike and followed the others home.

o0o

Trusting the guys to tie up all the loose ends, Kozik had squeezed the patrol car past the truck and puttered off down the road. It took an effort to go slow and not stomp the gas pedal down as far as it would go. Christ, how did he always end up in this kind of shit?

He'd thought pretending to be a cop in a patrol car would be the worst of it. And then somehow a bunch of kidnapped women had gotten added to the mix. He'd be spending the rest of his life behind bars if the real cops caught him. And, sure, he wasn't Boots, wasn't gonna consider turning in his patch over this shit, but as far as he was concerned, this whole thing couldn't be over fast enough. He longed for the moment he could strip off the uniform, grab a cold one, kick up his feet, and feed Missy dog biscuits.

His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. The three girls in the back seat had their heads together and were whispering in their own language. From the furtive glances they threw his way, and the way the brunette was shaking her head fiercely, he reckoned they were discussing their situation. Probably wondering what to expect next or what to do. He hoped they weren't gonna do anything stupid.

"Sit tight," he reminded them. He tried not to growl; it wasn't their fault. "Nobody's gonna hurt you."

Soon as he spoke, the girls froze and fell silent. The blonde leaned forward, putting her face closer to the mesh. "Where you take us?"

He met her gaze briefly. The look in her blue eyes was wary. "The cops," he replied curtly. Snatching a glimpse of Boots waving him down in the headlights, he put his foot on the brake and pulled the car to a stop.

"Cops?" The girl evidently didn't recognize the colloquialism.

Simple words, dude, Kozik reminded himself. Out loud, he clarified, "The police."

She recoiled. "You are not police?" Her voice was high and tight and she sounded as if she was seconds away from panicking. Kozik cursed inwardly. He'd completely forgotten what the uniform would make them think. He turned his gaze up to the mirror again.

"Other police." It seemed the fastest way to reassure her and it seemed to work: while she watched him in the mirror, weighing his words, she didn't freak out. After a few seconds, she lowered her gaze, muttered something to her friends, and settled back in the seat. Kozik let out a breath. The last thing he needed, on top of everything else, was for those three to go to pieces.

"Kozik? Did we—?" Boots yanked open the door, ready to jump in. "Whoa!" He did a double take. "Who—? " His utter bafflement at seeing the girls would've been funny, if Kozik hadn't been in such a damned hurry to get rid of his passengers.

"Long story." He gestured. "Get the fuck in."

"What about—." Boots gave a vague wave toward the road he'd been guarding.

"We're done. Club's finishing up." Eager to get the hell away, Kozik ducked his head so he could catch Boots' eye and snapped, "Get your damn ass in here, or you're gonna have to hoof it back."

Boots scrambled into the front seat. He snuck a peek across his shoulder and whistled softly through his teeth. "Where'd you find them?" He kept his voice low. Like that mattered, with the few words of English those girls understood.

Kozik snorted a wry laugh. "In the truck, if you can believe it."

"Huh?" Boots tugged his tie loose. "But—how?"

Kozik quickly caught him up on what he'd missed after he'd gone off to get Mouse.

"Holy shit." Boots pulled up a knee and twisted half-around so he could see into the back without contorting his neck. "What were you ladies doing in there, anyway?"

Kozik shook his head. "Don't bother. They don't speak English."

They'd reached the highway, and he hit the blinker, peering left and right before turning onto the main road. Though every instinct told him to floor it, he reminded himself that not abiding by the traffic rules was an easy way to draw unwanted attention. And the less attention they got, the better their chances of making it to Charming without any hiccups.

"Turns out Markoski was smuggling, alright," he patiently explained to Boots. But it wasn't booze or smokes." He gave a small jerk of the head backward. "He was smuggling girls."

The girls were tittering softly among themselves again.

"What the hell would Markoski do that for?"

"You serious?" Kozik huffed. "I thought you were the smart one. Think, dude. Why the hell would someone move pretty girls into the country illegally?"

Boots sucked in a breath. "Prostitution?"

Kozik barked a laugh. "Wow, clever guess, college boy."

"No!" the blonde protested, and Kozik reckoned she must've understood more than he would've expected. "We are not prostitute. They promise we work for family. Cook, clean. Look after children."

Kozik met her gaze again. The wariness in her expression was overlaid with indignity, and perhaps a smidgen of fresh fear. He glanced away, using the excuse of steering around a curve to pretend he needed to focus on the road.

Boots swiveled around in his seat fully. "Hi, I'm Boots. Want some gum?"

Kozik whipped his head around. "Are you insane?" For someone who'd made it to college, Boots sure was dumb.

"What?" Boots wormed a strip of spearmint through the wire mesh. "Just being friendly."

Kozik snorted. "That kind of friendly can land your ass in jail, fool."

"They wouldn't do that. We rescued them." Boots squinted at Kozik uncertainly. He put the packet of gum back in his pocket. "You ladies wouldn't give us up, would you?"

The blonde asked, "What is rescued?"

Kozik swallowed a laugh. The girl recognized the word for whore, but not for getting her ass yanked out of the fire.

"Means we saved you." Boots grinned broadly as he added, "From the bad men."

Kozik raised his eyes to the car roof. Christ, someone shoot him now.

But Boots' open approach seemed to lessen the girls' fears, and he slowly drew their story out of the blonde, who gave her name as Ania. Her friends were Olga and Tatiana. Lots of a's, Kozik noted absently, as he listened to the tale.

"One day, men come to our village." Ania spoke in a soft, toneless voice. "They tell us about work. In America. They say they help us. We," she gestured at herself and the other two girls, "say is good thing. Little work at home. Little money. So we go."

"I read an article about that." Boots smacked an angry fist against his leg. "I bet they took your passport soon as you got off the boat, right?"

"Airplane," Ania corrected, misunderstanding the figure of speech again. "Yes, they take passport, money, clothes. Everything. They say we work for them now, pay for airplane first."

"Assholes." Boots squirmed round to face forward again. "That's fuckin' low, man," he muttered at Kozik. "Feed those girls some lies about the promised land, then whore 'em out."

Though Kozik wasn't really surprised—he'd seen what people would do for money, even sell their own mothers—he had to agree with Boots: it was a pretty nasty way of making a buck.

Boots was jiggling his knees again. "What's gonna happen to them now?"

In back, the blonde was once more whispering in her own language to her friends. Explaining what she'd told Boots, Kozik guessed.

He shrugged. "Dunno. We pass 'em on to Unser. He'll handle it." The headlamps briefly flared over the Welcome to Charming sign at the side of the road. Almost home, outta the woods. "Reckon they'll get sent home or something."

"Huh." Boots snuck another glance over his shoulder. "That don't seem fair after they came all this way."

Kozik puffed up his cheeks and released the breath slowly. He turned down the side road that would take them to Unser's place. "No, it don't."

So much crap in life wasn't fair, though. He'd seen more than his share of shitty outcomes during his years in the Corps. And he reckoned these chicks should count themselves lucky when all was said and done: they weren't gonna end up spreading their legs for middle-aged truckers in the back room of a seedy strip club in Vegas. They'd go home to their families in one piece, unharmed. More than a lot of people could say. Much as anyone could ask for, really.

He steered into the Unser Trucking lot, where the chief was already waiting. Almost done.

o0o

"Mousey-boy!" Chibs hollered past Tig's ear, the moment they walked into the club house.

Tig winced, tossing a dirty look across his shoulder. Chibs pretended not to notice and jostled his way ahead of Tig, making a beeline for the bar and waving at the bartender to pour him a drink.

Mouse's head had already whipped around at the slam of the door being flung open. He'd been sitting at the bar, rolling a beer bottle between his palms. His expression was wary and like he was contemplating bolting out the back. Tig kinda understood: the kid had no idea what had gone down after he'd been sent off. Far as Mouse knew, club still thought he might be a rat.

Tig and the others had, by chance, arrived back at the club house at the same time as Piney and the two Prospects. Piney had picked them up at Unser's, while everyone else had taken the long road home. As the Sons parked their bikes and pulled off helmets and gloves, Piney caught them up with Kozik's report of what the girls had told him and Boots.

Tig had hardly listened. With the retribution successful—if not quite how they'd pictured it—he was eager for some down time, with a cold beer and maybe a blow job or two to take the edge off.

Shouldn't be too difficult to arrange: though it was late Wednesday and the club house was quiet, a good handful of sweetbutts were scattered around, most watching a couple hangarounds play pool with evident boredom. They perked up as soon as the patched members strutted in and Tig caught sight of the blonde who was his current favorite—Melissa? Melinda? He couldn't recall. He gave her a wink, indicating his interest, and her smile widened and she took a step toward him.

"You weren't wrong after all, son." Clay was slapping a hand on Mouse's shoulder.

Tig sighed and held up a finger. One minute, doll. Seemed they'd be dealing with Mouse first. If he'd has his way, he'd have let the little bastard squirm a little longer. Payback for falsely accusing the Prospects. Christ knows, Tig had been tempted to let Kozik take that swing.

"'Bout what?" Mouse winced under Clay's strong grip.

Otto, looming at Clay's shoulder, smirked at Mouse's confusion. "Markoski was smugglin' something on that run, alright. Wasn't what we thought, though. It was—," he paused, looking around at the rest of them and meeting everyone's eye briefly, before taking a big breath and announcing to the room at large, "—pussy!"

There was a roar of laughter. Even Boots, not known for his sense of humor, joined in.

"Huh?"

"Bitches." Happy growled, sounding more than a little pissed, though his dark eyes glittered in amusement.

"Bitches?" Mouse echoed. Jesus, the little retard really was slow on the uptake.

"Yeah." Hap lost patience with the dimwit. "Ya know. Girls, chicks. Pussy." He grabbed an eager croweater hovering at the edge of group surrounding them and pulled her closer. She giggled as he kneaded her ass. Mouse still looked bewildered as fuck.

"Turns out the guy's into human trafficking, dude." It was Bobby who took pity on the hapless Mouse. "Pretty young women. Lures 'em over with promises of housekeeping jobs, then sends them on to clubs in Vegas or LA to whore 'em out."

"Huh." Mouse made another small confused sound. After another minute, cautious understanding dawned on his face. "So..." His voice trailed off as his eyes darted around at the other Sons. "I was right? About the transport?"

"Yeah, brother, you're in the clear." Much as it pained him to say it, Tig couldn't deny it. He planted an elbow on the bar and leaned a little closer to Mouse than he needed to, hemming Mouse in between Clay and himself, before gesturing for a beer.

"Should thank Kozik for savin' your skinny ass," Happy rumbled, even as he slipped his hand under the croweater's top.

"Too right. We'd have never known 'bout 'em if it weren't for this lad." Chibs slung an arm around Kozik's shoulders. Kozik pretended to be indifferent, but Tig knew him better than than. He easily recognized the brief flash of pleasure that flitted across Kozik's face. "He was the one figured out where those lasses were stashed outta sight."

"Kozik found them?" Mouse fell into a sullen pout. He didn't seem to like the idea Kozik was the one who'd gotten him off the hook.

"Man knows how to use that gray matter he's got in his skull." Snatching the beer the bargirl had put before him with one hand, Tig smugly rapped the knuckles of his other hand against the back of Mouse's head. "Unlike some."

"Ow!" Mouse batted at his arm. "Shit, Tig, quit that!"

Tig laughed and took a pull from his beer. Maybe he could work it so Kozik and Mouse got in the ring together. Give Kozik a chance to vent his frustration without consequences and teach the kid a lesson in appreciation.

"So you see, laddie," Chibs tossed back his Scotch and slammed down the glass for a refill, "all's well that ends well."

With the matter settled, the group gradually drifted apart. Clay retreated to the chapel, presumably to enjoy a stogie in peace. Happy disappeared down the hall, a hand on the croweater's hip. Bobby confiscated a plate of cookies and withdrew to a corner. Otto and Chibs ambled back outside, sharing a pair of sweetbutts in skin-tight dresses between them and chatting about the modifications Otto wanted to make to his bike.

"Hey." The blonde croweater siddled up to Tig and hoisted herself onto the bar stool next to him. She leaned slightly toward him, enough he could feel her body heat.

"Hey, doll." Tig slung his arm around her, pulling her closer, not yet ready to take her to one of the back rooms. Plenty of time for that later. Enjoying his beer and the willing girl in his arms, Tig let his gaze wander around the room. Kozik had plopped on the ratty couch and was feeding Missy dog treats while he talked to one of the pool players. "Be right back, sweetheart. Don't go anywhere."

He let go of the girl, confident she'd wait for him, checked to make sure his bottle wasn't empty yet and strolled up to Kozik. A quick jab of his head in the direction of the hangaround and the guy, an old hand, retreated far enough he wouldn't be able to hear.

Satisfied he had the privacy he needed, Tig dropped next to Kozik on the sofa and threw his feet up on the low table. As soon as he was settled, Missy put her front paws next to his knees, tongue lolling. Tig chuckled, scratching her ears, happy to give her some love. ""Clay's impressed. Figuring out that compartment. And Hap told him about the other day, too."

"Ain't no biggie." Kozik brushed Tig off with a casual shrug.

"Uh huh." Kozik's attitude didn't fool Tig. He might've seen the guy deal with far more dangerous shit than a bunch of wannabe mobsters from Russia, or wherever, but he knew Kozik was pleased by the compliment. "Club'll vote you in easily, when the day comes."

"Won't be for a while." Kozik folded the package of dog treats closed and put it out of Missy's eager reach. "I'm only at five months."

Tig fought a smile. Someone had been counting. "Year minimum's the rule, yeah. Gotta make absolutely sure jerks like that—," he dipped his head toward the bar, where Mouse, bolstered with the knowledge he was no longer under suspicion, was holding court again, Tig's blonde among his admirers, "—fit in right."

Kozik expression sobered. "That guy ain't ever gonna let me patch in. Not in a million years."

Tig scrubbed a hand over his chin. Kozik had a point: for some unknown reason, Mouse had taken an instant dislike to him. Did it run deep enough to vote against him? Not on Tig's watch.

Tig tightened his jaw. "He will. It'll happen. You'll see."

Smart enough not to say anything, Kozik gave him a narrow-eyed look.

Tig scritched Missy behind the ears again. "Was thinkin' about what Mouse said to you, earlier."

"You know I'd never—." Kozik's brows drew down.

Tig silenced him with a dismissive wave of his bottle. "Course not. Never woulda sponsored you if I thought you might. No, was thinkin' bullshit like that shouldn't go unanswered. And I'm guessin' you wouldn't mind gettin' back at the little douchebag?"

Kozik pursed his lips and let air whistle softly through his teeth. Missy swiveled her head attentively in his direction. "Can't say as I would, yeah. That stung, you know?"

Tig brought his bottle to his mouth again, and grimaced when he found it empty this time. "Brothers settle their differences at the table—or in the ring." As Tig had expected, Kozik's eyes lit up at the mention of the ring. He chuckled. "I'll bring it up at the table, next church."

Kozik cracked his knuckles. "Think the guys will go for it?" He waved a hand, indicating Mouse's cut and then his own.

"Hey, you forget who you're talkin' to?" Tig snorted. "I'm the SAA. My opinion counts, situation like this. So, you like?"

"Fuck, yeah." Kozik clenched his jaw. "Asshole's been on my case from the start."

"I know. This can't be about that, though." Tig waited until Kozik nodded before he thrust his empty beer bottle at him. "Now, be a good Prospect, and get me another one."

Kozik choked back a laugh. He took the bottle and walked off. Tig shifted his attention back to the gaggle of half-naked club girls strutting their stuff nearby, Melissa—or Melinda—had already forgotten him and headed off somewhere with someone else. All he had left was his pick of redheads and brunettes. Unable to decide, he simply waved them all over.

o0o