~Malibu Beach, May 27, 2001 – 7:00am~
Neither had slept in at least 24 hours but neither felt tired as they gazed into the others eyes making their way to the eloquently prepared breakfast table. Their trip thus far had been perfect the flight to Los Angeles airport via private plane uneventful. The convertible reserved waiting at the foot of the stairs a dark suited man handing over the keys. They traveled the streets that skirted the shoreline their carefree laughter filling the air. Hannah loved how he knew only one speed just as she did which was fast, the gentle breeze whipping through her hair and the sun beaming upon her skin felt divine. To Hannah's surprise, Conor had reserved an entire four bedroom beachfront house in Malibu for their stay complete with a chef and housekeeper to provide her with any desires she might have. Hannah had protested about the extravagance but Conor had given her a coy smirk and insisted money was not an issue. She had only been in his company for a blink of an eye compared to most who had been with her since birth but it didn't take long for Hannah to realize he was unique. Every action every word he spoke differed from anyone she had ever known. He was like a diamond multifaceted. A person with the liveliness of youth but with a soul that was much older and knowledgeable. The contrast was intoxicating to her. As if being swept away from Charming wasn't romantic fairytale enough he had arranged for an elegant dinner for two on the terrace followed by a night of entertainment in the city.
Hannah had declined the after dinner entertainment not really much on the theatrical experience she suggested a walk along the shoreline. Conor a stickler for itineraries and normally not swayed from his agenda found Hannah Marshall could be very persuasive with her radiant smile and soft brown eyes. He agreed without hesitation to forgoing the plans and taking the unplanned path with her. They had strolled leisurely hand in hand along the shoreline the hours seemingly endless as the full moon shone brightly in the sky casting the white hues of its glow upon them. She had even persuaded the very formal Conor to slip off his shoes and enjoy the feel of the soft sand as they walked together talking endlessly.
They never went to bed that night finding themselves finally sitting poolside on the ground as the sun rose on the horizon holding exquisite promise for the day that lay ahead. For a moment in time, Conor McGregory had lowered the defensive wall that years of tremendous loss had built up around him, and his calloused heart softened with her laugh, and warm smile. He had broken his number one rule and let the lovely Hannah Marshall see a glimpse of the real man on the inside, and Hannah Marshall found the real Conor McGregory enchanting, intriguing and truly mesmerizing. However, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end and so their ending came not by spoken words but a few scribbled letters joined on a small white slip of paper that rested on the crisp linen tablecloth between the orange juice decanter and vase of red roses.
"All I am saying Hannah is never once did you mention being related to Jackson Teller." Conor felt as monotone as his voice standing with his arms interlocked across his chest watching Hannah hastily throw her clothes in the black suitcase.
"I don't know you never asked and well I didn't think it was important. We don't go around telling everyone like a public service announcement." She paused looking up from the mound of clothing she was trying to stuff within the square perimeter. Shit why do things always pack easier than they repack. "Is it important Conor?"
"Yes, it's damned important!" Bloody fucking hell! He cursed silently not only because of the revelation but the loss of composure his voice reflected. "You are the sister to the outlaw Prince of Charming that deserves at least a mentioned do you not think?" His temples throbbed in protest.
Conor knew it was wrong to lash out at her when the person he was truly pissed off at was himself. Such incompetence such lack in the most minuscule detail was not a normal occurrence for him. He blamed himself entirely for becoming so absorbed in her feminine wiles that he had never bothered to put her connection to Jackson Teller together. Sure, he had seen her come and go from the MC when he had tracked Clay Morrow's whereabouts. He had inquired with a source that gave him no indication of the relationship being any more than a childhood friendship. The fact that she was childhood friends with a ringleader of the group he would have various anonymous encounters with had been a slight concern but not large enough to break off company with the lovely Ms. Marshall. The revelation however was very unfortunate in many ways.
"I'll arrange for a car to take you back to the airport." Conor fought the curtness of his tone not wanting to let her know how much it mattered.
Hannah looked at him with confusion in her brown eyes unable to hide the hurt that his words had just inflicted upon her. "You aren't coming with me?"
"No, this is a personal issue that I don't belong in the middle of and I have business to attend before returning to Charming." His blue eyes fell from her gaze as he turned to the phone on the nightstand arranging for her departure.
Hannah blinked several times hoping she would wake up and the last few exchanges would just be a bad dream. She could only stand stunned by the chameleon shift, as he became someone she didn't even recognize. It was as if he had slapped her in the face with his chilling demeanor. His bright clear blue eyes even taking on a darkness to them that she was not accustom too. She desperately wanted to find the underlying cause of his shift in attitude but she knew that Jackson and her family needed her as well, and like always Hannah Marshall would answer their needs before her own.
~7:45am~
"Yes, I am well aware that it is not my nature to ask about such a job but I would like to know if it is available."
"Very well I will ask on your behalf and be in touch shortly." The sound of the disconnected line buzzed in his ear before he replaced the receiver back in its place.
Conor sat behind the dark mahogany desk in the large office of the rented Malibu home his fingers curled around the bottle of Bushmills that he had requested be stocked in the bar. Unscrewing the cap and tipping the bottle, he watched as the amber liquid splashed on the sides of the Waterford crystal tumbler. Always attuned to the time Conor was well aware of the hour as he lifted the glass placing the rim to his mouth. Consuming the liquid in one large swallow the slow burn traveled down his esophagus, as he reasoned it was five o clock somewhere in the world.
~Charming, SAMCRO Chapel~
"Motherfucker how did this shit happen? HOW?" Jax's voice cut through the thick white cloud that consumed the enclosed area, a cloud created from the many cigarettes smoked by the men of Mayhem that sat around the large redwood reaper table.
"Jax he was on his way home to spend time with Gemma, Fuck we weren't expecting any bullshit there hasn't been an attack made like this since." Tig hesitated for a moment, "Since the Mayans started the last motherfuckin' blood bath when your father was President."
Jax slammed his palm down angrily on the hard table in response. "We have been talking about being on the edge of a full-scale war again with Mayans and you look at me and honestly say we weren't expecting any bullshit Jesus Christ! Jax looked up at the ceiling the frustration rolling his face as he slowly allowed his hand to travel from his forehead down to the end of his chin where 2 days of stubble had accumulated.
"Aye Jackie Boy willnae dae onie guid yelling." Chibs spoke up.
"He's right Jax we need to find out who's behind the shooting. Get on top of this shit before they bury us. We ain't ready for another war." Bobby interjected.
"The whole thing stinks of professional hit man to me." Mike chimed in twisting his depleted cigarette back and forth in the ashtray. "Single shot was fired from a pretty good distance."
"Professional hit man brother it was the fuckin' Mexicans God damned mother fuckers." Tig shot Mike a crazed look.
"I hate to agree with him." Aiden took a pull from his cigarette exhaling adding his own pollution to the thick smog that enveloped them. "But Mikes right something doesn't add up with this shit. Whoever took Clay down did it with a certain finesse that doesn't scream Mexican drive by. C'mon Tig tell me you see that."
"Let me tell you what I see, brother." Tig spit out the need for vengeance dripping off each word spoken. "I see a lot of dead fuckin' taco benders that's what I see." He rose in anger patting the gun in his waistband.
"Sit down Tig." Jax replied in a steady tone. The veins in his neck pulsating at the thought of Tig running loose on the streets creating his usual bullshit forest fires that he as President would now be responsible for extinguishing. He knew that for Clay it had always been one of his biggest pains in the ass putting out the fires that resulted from Tig's inability to think before reacting.
"FUCK that shit Clay's dead!" Tig eyes bulged and his forehead dripped with perspiration as he spoke the words. "They are gonna fuckin' pay!"
"Sit down." Happy stood.
"No wait don't sit down Tig." Jax flashed a cheeky smirk as his blue eyes moved from Tig to Aiden. "Brother take his seat."
"ARE YOU FUCKIN' KIDDIN' ME?" Tig's scream echoed through the room.
"No, I ain't fuckin' kiddin' you Tig." Jax responded his voice heavy with sarcasm as he extended his hand grabbing the pack of cigarettes located in front of Opie. "Things are a little too personal for you now. Aiden will be taking over as Sgt. at Arms." Jax knew in his heart that Tig's hot temper was only part of the issue he had been Clay's pied piper. Taking every opportunity to whisper in others ears that he was a pussy too weak for the Presidents seat when Clay days were over. His loyalty to back him with the needed votes was in question and for what lay ahead, Jax didn't have time to test the waters. Who you gonna call a pussy now motherfucker that's right suck my dick asshole, his smirk grew as the cigarette dangled on his lips for moment.
Aiden furrowed his brow he didn't want the seat he wanted to grab Amelia and get the fuck out-of-town as quickly as possible. Reluctantly and without enthusiasm, he stood from his current chair making his way to the right hand seat by Jax. He could hear the heavy angered breathing of Tig as he passed by him, Get in line motherfucker, the thought ran though his mind as he sat down in the new place.
Mike squinted his eyes at Aiden's reluctance to move from the chair he was presently sitting in. The others might not have noticed the hesitation in his gestures and momentary look of anguish on his face but Mike had clued in on it. He was certain Aiden had hesitated for the same reason he had been reluctant to put the cut back on. Her. Christ, he ran his fingers through his long brown hair. Knowing eventually when all the shit with the club was settled they would need to settle other more personal matters. Mike knew he would have to kill him it was the only way to be free of Aiden Janowitz; he just had to figure out a way for that to occur without Amelia ever finding out.
"As you can all see Opie will be sitting to my left as VP," Jax eyes roamed the table making contact with each brother.
"Now that we got the seating chart settled let's get Clay buried respectfully and find out who in the hell is responsible." Jax fell back in his seat at the head of the table taking a long drag from his cigarette watching the spoke as it swirled around him.
"Aye, Bobby an' Ah are drivin' yer mother ower tae th' funeral home." Chibs spoke his voice full of remorse as he rose from his seat.
"Yeah, we better get going." Bobby stood.
"Who's with Gem this morning?" Jax spoke the words to no one in particular.
"Donna and Luann. I got a few prospects on the lookout." Opie answered taking another smoke from the pack on the table.
"Where's Hannah?" Jax inquired resting his face in the palms of his hands.
"Found the location of that place in Malibu." Juice answered shifting his eyes nervously. "She didn't have her cell phone on had to leave a message with some housekeeper for her to call in."
"It's fuckin' 8:00am in the morning and she left yesterday why the hell hasn't she called?" Jax raised his head from his hands demanding an answer.
"I...I don't know Jax. None of ya'll keep your damned cell phones on." Juice replied his voice quivering slightly.
"Jax simmer down she's probably just busy fuckin' around." Opie interjected immediately regretting his choice of words.
"Busy fuc…" Jax halted his words mid-sentence shifting uncomfortably in his seat a rage consuming him followed by the thought of how he was going to fuck Mr. GQ up if his sister didn't surface soon. He inhaled deeply closing his eyes for a moment trying to get his anger in check before speaking again. "Aiden, Mike, you two think you could work with Juice on finding out who these fuckers making an attack on us are without killing one another?"
Aiden rolled his eyes already disgusted with the new change in seating working with Juice was not a problem but working with Mike had Jax lost his goddamned mind.
"Oh, and while you are at it look into that cocksucker Conor McGregory again I refuse to believe he just fell out of the sky with no history or background. And another thing Juice I want the address of that goddamned house they are at."
~Charming, May 30, 2001, Funeral ~
"Gemma I am so sorry." Amelia looked up at the Queen of Charming unsure what else to say as they stood in the parking lot of the church waiting on the men to mount their bikes and start the procession towards the gravesite. Funeral conversation had to be the most awkward of all words in her opinion. What was one to say when they clearly knew the others life was in a fucked up state. I am so sorry was so cliché she knew but for the life of her Amelia Tate couldn't come up with anything more original.
"Thank you sweetheart." Gemma responded with a reply that had her feeling like a broken record. It had been her standard response in the last days and she was unsure of just how many times it had fallen from her lips. Looking over at Clays casket being slide into the back of the hearse she just wanted to get high and remain that way for a period of several weeks.
"How are you feeling Amelia?" Donna asked smiling gently. She was excited that Amelia was pregnant especially since she and Opie had just discovered they too would be parents again soon, but unfortunately, her friends didn't share the same enthusiasm.
"Ok." Amelia answered not comfortable with talking about the subject that everyone seemed so jubilant about. Her being pregnant. She knew she shouldn't harbor the feelings she did about her unborn child but even after several long conversations with Mike, she didn't want the baby. The fear of becoming her own mommy dearest consumed her day and night. Mike had promised her the decision would be hers to make yet he had gone all cave dweller making it a point of proudly announcing to the entire MC they were having a baby. Amelia was outraged at the move feeling forced by him into a situation she didn't want. Only Aiden seemed to understand her fears.
"Hey beautiful." She knew the voice behind her immediately and it brought a comforting smile to her face. "You Ok?"
"Yes, I just …" Amelia had no clue what she wanted to say an occurrence that seemed to be happening to her quite often.
"Just what?" Aiden reached out brushing his thumb against her cheek.
Hearing Mikes voice drifting towards them as he talked to Happy and Bobby Aiden knew it was time to end the conversation that had just begun. "Listen I'll be close by." He brushed her forehead with his lips before walking to his Harley.
"He bothering you." Mike walked up his green eyes glaring at Aiden's back as he spoke the words to her.
"No, Mike he's not bothering me." Amelia peered up at him. She had already grown tired of the friction between the two men. Friction she was being tossed around in the middle of and it sucked. "Shit." She muttered the last word as she fought to hold back the tears that welled up in her eyes for no particular reason. Another wonderful development of pregnancy raging hormones blubbering on a moment's notice for damned reason at all. She closed her eyes cursing silently at the fact she couldn't even smoke a joint to bring herself a little balance and harmony.
"Come here baby." He pulled her into his arms. "It's going to be ok." He buried his head in her hair as he spoke the words as if to convince them both.
"You ok Gem." Jackson walked up to his mother.
Gemma reached out touching her sons beautiful face she loved him more than any other human being on the earth. Jax and the club were all she had left with Clay gone. "I'll be fine sweetheart. You just lead your men and honor Clay." She nodded at him with confidence.
"Gem." Tig walked up his arms embracing her in a hug. He inhaled deeply his lips just millimeters from the nape of her neck the smell of her perfume intermingled with weed making him grow hard. He supposed he should feel guilty being stiff as timber with Clay laying in a pine-fucking box not 50 feet away but Gemma was one hot woman there was no denying it.
"Making it Tiggy." Gemma patted him on the back with the palms of her hands the feel of his rigidness on her thigh. She knew Luann would probably even think it shameful but she could feel herself growing wet.
Hannah stood by the car waiting for the others to come over a migraine headache developing.
"No call." Jax asked walking up to her as she leaned against the black vehicle.
"No. He hasn't talked to me since he found out." Hannah answered flatly.
"Hannah I would give almost anything to change things." He responded his blue eyes peering at her full of regret.
"What exactly would you change Jackson?" She inquired as she gazed at him through the tears in her eyes.
"I would change who your father is." He spoke the words never taking his eyes off her.
~Cemetery~
The heavy rain-sodden clouds hovered above the gravesite proceedings. The storm brewing on the horizon holding greater semblance than any man or woman standing in the enormous crowd could fathom. The world had tilted on its axis the future changed for each man wearing the leather upon his back. Gentle sobs and heavy sighs lingered in the air as each set of eyes glared in disbelief at the glossy wooden casket and the picture placed at the side. His cheeky smirk and large white teeth gleamed back at them. The stone-faced preacher stood behind the podium adorned with white lilies rambling on endlessly about walking thru a valley of death with a God, that the men before him were not sure ever existed.
Gemma Teller-Morrow the matriarch and now twice widow of a mother charter President stood before the casket her face devoid of all emotion. Even though her exterior eluded that of a woman in complete control of her emotions, her interior was screaming in rage. They spent many hours in the other's arms plotting and skimming how the future would unravel once they were able to rid themselves of JT. Both sets of hands stained with blood to make sure their plans became reality. While they had anticipated, some bumpy terrain along the way Gemma and Clay had not anticipated this turn of events. Sure, he wasn't going to be able to ride as long as they had hoped due to the debilitating arthritis in his hands. No ride, no vote there was no way around it but she had secured her place in the club through her sons legacy. That trump card however wasn't meant to activate until many years down the road. The news of Clay's death had plowed her over like the semi-truck that had taken JT's life six years earlier. Gemma could only stand dumbfounded in her kitchen the blood draining from her face when Unser delivered the news. Her man of steel taken down by a single bullet from some group of motherfuckers whose motive remained to be seen. The rage boiled through her like a kettle of water on the stovetop. Now her son was thrust in the head position of the club a little too soon which put his life at risk. The cackle of the birds drifting to her from the nearby trees mimicked the laughs of her late first husband the founder of the Anarchy.
John Teller the son of a bitch she had loved him with such intensity at one time yet towards the end after Thomas's death he became a man she could only look at with disgust. All the wisdom and forethought that had once attracted her to him had turned into some passionate quest to right what he felt had gone wrong with his precious Anarchy. She could feel the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand as the cool air brushed against her flesh. Gemma moved her eyes subtly towards the area of the cemetery where JT's rotting decayed bones lay in the cold earth. She could feel his ghost dancing around her whispering mockingly in her ear. Bastard, she hissed in her mind at him. Karma my love it always rolls around and make no mistake it's a bigger bitch than you, his unwelcome voice rang through Gemma's subconscious like a shovel digging up all the transgressions of yesteryear.
Tig Trager stood beside Gemma his reflection showing everything hers did not. He found himself in such a state of shock he wasn't even sure if his God damned boxer briefs were on correctly or if had gone commando allowing big Jim and the twins to hang free. He felt numb. Hanging his head low, he fought the grimace that overtook his expression he had loved Clay. What a fuckin' waste the words echoed through his mind. He looked over at Jax standing beside his sister Hannah and wondered if he was still tapping that shit. Incestuous fucking the sadistic vision played in his mind consuming him sending a wave of momentary normalcy throughout his body. A crooked smile adorned the corner of his mouth as his cock responded to the vision.
Looking around at all the headstones, the thought of all the fresh female corpses with their succulent tits laying exposed ten feet below only attributed to the rush of blood already engorging him. The movement of Jax's arm pulling Hannah into the fold of his side snapped him from his lewd erotic fantasies. Tig eyed the young brother he didn't believe Jax had the balls to stand up and be a brute, a real man's man like Clay Morrow. He was outraged at being removed from his seat and intended on rectifying the situation as soon as possible. What the young Teller didn't seem to understand was being the Club President of an MC required the willingness to make moves that made many unable to sleep at night. Jax was a lot like his old man JT wanting everything to smell like peaches and mother fuckin' roses all the damn time. A real tiptoe through the tulip kinda kid Jax had always been. Tig knew the truth of the matter there wasn't shit that smelled sweet except maybe a freshly perfumed pussy and that fragrance only lasted so long before the stench took over again. As far as tip toeing the only thing they were going to be tip toeing through was a huge pile of motherfuckin' shit.
Hannah stood beside Jax the tears streaming down her cheeks slowly. He had promised her that while their relationship as siblings might leak out that nothing more would surface. It had been the only way to keep her from fleeing from Charming. Losing Tara had ripped his heart out enough he had been selfish and couldn't let Hannah go even though he knew it probably would have been for the best. Now that Conor motherfucker was ignoring her because he was her brother. Jax wondered exactly what he might have heard and from whom he planned to introduce himself as soon as the funeral and wake were over. No one was going to use Hannah like a roll in the hay as long as he was breathing. He peered over at Happy standing close by he would take him along for the ride to meet Mr. McGregory. Like Jax it tended to piss him off when people didn't treat Hannah right. He continued to glance around at the multitude of people pushed by back in the distance by the leather cuts most of them on lookers who just wanted to be noisy as fuck not giving a shit about the man in the casket. He had not always agreed with everything that Clay had brought to the table their opinions often varying a great deal. His part in concealing the family secret about Hannah concerned him and made him wonder what other secrets Clay and Gemma had swept under the rug over the years. Still despite all the concerns it did not change the fact that Clay had stepped in adopted him when JT died tragically and for that, he would forever be grateful.
Jax heaved out a breath suddenly feeling as if the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders. Everyone in the club was looking to him and they were on the verge of some major fucked up shit. It wasn't as if he hadn't had a clue this day would come, it was inevitable not only did he sit in the VP seat but also his heritage the blood that coursed through his veins predetermined his destiny. Still for it to all come at him like a freight train had not been expected the honeymoon of youth was definitely over and more than ever, each and every move they made counted. He looked up into the dark sky as several large drops of water fell upon his face. A sense of foreboding came over him like never before. Shit had just gotten real.
David Hale stood close to his old ford bronco watching the hordes of people mourning over a man who was nothing more than a modern-day gun reeling outlaw. Clay Morrow didn't deserve the tears flowing for him. What he deserved in David's opinion was what the other three Princely assholes deserved a place in hell. The entire MC deserved to rot there as far as he was concerned still vengeful for the attack on his high school friend Jason all those years earlier. Of course, no one knew that such dark thoughts lay in Captain American's squeaky-clean mind. He crinkled his brow at the nickname Unser had given him for being on the straight and narrow rather than a bitch that took it up the ass for the club.
His eyes found Hannah Marshall in the crowd and a smile curved his lips as he watched her clinging to Jax Teller as if he hung the moon. He had heard she was seeing some new man in town rich wealthy real Wall Street type of man. Hannah was on David's fuck list literally. Why the hell shouldn't I at least get a piece of the pie? She had after all been his high school girlfriend. He rolled his eyes up to the sky as he thought about how she had kept her knees clenched tightly anytime his hand had tried to roam. Yet there she stood cuddled with her brother of all people, how sweet was that, he thought hatefully in his mind. David just added it to the list of transgressions and insults he had incurred compliments of the Sons. Transgressions and insults he intended to reap full payment for sooner rather than later.
Donna's petite stature curved into Opie's towering 6'4' frame for support. The warmth of his body and his muscular arm draped firmly around her shoulder brought a sense of security that she desperately needed in a moment where nothing felt secure. She was thankful that five-year-old Kenny had remained with his mother who refused to attend the funeral. Mary Winston once a stand behind your man original first nine Ol' lady was now anti SAMCRO blaming the brotherhood for all the shit that had ever gone wrong in her life. Donna didn't know if the MC was responsible for everything that her recently returned mother in law accused them of. Opie protected and sheltered her from the ugliness and in the peaceful times they had lived, it wasn't hard to see the multitude of good in the Men of Mayhem versus the darker side. Donna wasn't as naïve as Opie liked to think she was and had known the day of unrest would eventually be inevitable, but like everyone, else standing around she hadn't expected the day to knock the door so soon. The years of preparation, they had counted on for the transition from peace to mayhem had been taken away by a single well-aimed shot to the temple.
She tilted her head to the side allowing her brown eyes to examine the rugged man with the soft heart beside her closer. She loved him and supported his love for the club but she couldn't shake the horrifying visions that invaded her dreams at night and she dared not speak of them for fear they would become reality. Her hand drifted across her abdomen rubbing it gently their second child rested within her with no knowledge of the ugliness that threatened them like the ominous clouds above.
Donna's glanced over at Amelia allowing her mind to drift back to the youthful days they had all shared together laughing and plotting a future that had never materialized except for her and Opie. Amelia was going to spend forever with Aiden and Tara was going to be with Jax forever. Their plan had been all American style their children would be best friends and they would all grow old together. Well with the exception of Aiden and Amelia who had both been against having children from day one. Now Amelia was engaged to another member of SAMCRO and pregnant. The irony was not lost on any of them least of all Aiden.
She studied Aiden as he stood peering longingly at Amelia he still loved her that much was clear. Donna wondered if Amelia felt the same for Aiden, they had been dealt an ending that provided neither with closure. The thought of closure made her think of Tara. A deep sigh escaped from between her thin lips. Unbeknown to Jax she talked to Tara every few months and had since her departure from Charming, looking in Jax's direction she debated if her dear friend needed to know the latest turn of events.
Aiden Janowitz stood a short distance behind Amelia Tate his mind lost in its own reality the usual thoughts engulfing him where she was concerned. He knew his mind should be on the future of SAMCRO but his brown eyes refused to break away from her. He knew his lack of concern and loyalty was a disgrace, and wondered if his hesitation to take the seat to the right of Jax was noticed by any of the brothers. His father Lenny 'The Pimp' Janowitz had always talked about loyalty, brotherhood being a man's priorities practically screaming them into his core from the time he was able to comprehend words. Aiden's fingers brushed back the wisps of curly brown hair that had fallen in his line of vision. He pushed the thoughts of his father to the back of his mind. She looked so beautiful to him her long snowy blonde hair flowing loosely atop of her dainty shoulders a stark contrast to the black material of her clothing. His brow crinkled in disgust at the Fucko standing beside her. You don't deserve her; he thought smugly his mind exploring any possible avenue to get her the hell out of Charming and away from the man at her side. Jax and Opie had already talked to him about the need to back off and respect what she had with Mike. The lingering question in his mind was what did she really have with Mike? He knew that Mike had portrayed who he was to Amelia in a way that blinded her to who he truly was on the inside. Aiden had nodded his head at his brothers babbling but he wasn't planning on backing off shit. He had backed off last time and it had cost him the love of his life this time Aiden intended on fighting until he walked away with Amelia or died. Either way he knew finally his tortured soul would be at peace.
Piney stood looking at scene before him praying the sheer happiness from seeing Clay in the wood box didn't reflect on his tired wrinkled face. Clay had been responsible for his best friend's death he knew it but just couldn't prove it. His tired eyes peered over at Gemma standing stoic as if she didn't have a care in the world. It had been the same when they laid JT in the ground. The iron-hearted woman had never even shed a tear at least not any that she allowed others to see. He inhaled deeply the plastic prongs imbedded in his nares bringing the soothing oxygen into his deprived lungs. Piney listened as the preacher concluded the service mumbling Amen at the end of a prayer that meant nothing to him. He had given Jax's copy of the manuscript to Hannah a few weeks back after being hospitalized again. His concern about his declining health and no one other than her knowing about the precious words stowed away in his cabin had been heavy on his heart. Piney wanted to take no chances that it fell in the wrong hands. Jax was going to need the vision and the word of his father in the hard days ahead. Even though he relished the fact that Clay was gone and he had lived to see another Teller transition to power he knew the timing was shit. Timing for them had always been shit though. Still there was no denying that the club was on the verge of major issues Piney could feel it in his old brittle bones. The possibility that Eastern influences were involved only heightened his concern. He stood statuesque as the crowd began to disperse many paying homage to the fallen President by laying flowers on his casket.
Opie looked up at his father staring at the casket now lowered into the ground. His Pop almost looked joyful Opie had known there was tension between the two First Nine members but until now, he had not realized the depth. He hugged Donna savoring the moment as if it were the last time they would have contact before gently lowering his lips over her forehead. Releasing her slowly he watched as she made her way towards Gemma and the car they had arrived in. The crowds were quickly dispersing and they needed to mount their bikes and start the procession towards the clubhouse to both mourn and celebrate the life of their fallen leader. Placing one foot in front of the other he began his journey in the direction of his old man, his Pop, Piney Winston.
Mike watched the people scurry to their vehicles and bikes as he pulled on his leather gloves. Something didn't feel right to him about the shit thathad rolled downhill since the phone call had come about Clay. To him it was clear someone was attempting to create unrest for the club starting at the top of ladder. Many from other charters were like Tig pointing fingers at the Mayans and while he wasn't discounting that they might be involved to him whoever was behind the hit had planned it carefully. There was a certain art to a good organized killing he knew this because he had participated in his share. Clays shooting rang out organization to him not a group of Mayans huddled up in the bushes that just got lucky he was driving by.
The shipment of coke he had hoisted with his guys on the sly in Southern Cali. entered his mind. His forehead creased as he thought about his original gut instincts about the large amount as he had peered around the warehouse that evening. The coke had supposedly belonged to a minor Mickey Mouse group towards the East but now he had to wonder if his normally spot on Intel hadn't been fucking wrong. He looked over at Amelia who smiled feebly at him his mouth cracked in what would have been a smile of reassurance that everything was going to be ok had the ripping pain not torn through his body.
"Mike!"' Amelia screamed his name as the warm bright red blood splattered on her bare arms. The metallic smell permeating her senses.
"Amelia!" Aiden called out to her as he closed the gap between them pulling her away from Mike and covering her protectively with his own body despite her struggles to gain freedom from his grasp.
"Let me go." Amelia fought desperately to gain freedom from Aiden's arms bound tightly around torso pushing her body into the ground.
"Amelia please don't fight me." Aiden's stern tone filled her ears.
Mike withdrew his Sig from his shoulder holster the unbearable pain radiating through his left upper arm. The adrenaline surged through him and his eyes locked with Amelia's clear blue ones for what he hoped wasn't the last time before catching Aiden's eyes.
"Get her on the ground and keep her there no matter what happens." He barked the order over her blood curdling screams. Unsure what had occurred except a bullet had hit him. His arm hurt like a motherfucker and blood was oozing all over the ground. He wasn't certain if he was, the intended target but if he was she was safer at a distance, and as much as he hated Aiden he knew, he would die before he allowed anyone to harm her. Just as the clouds gave way and the downpour of rain began to pound upon them, and the thundered cracked with a loud boom, Mike felt the breeze from the second bullet this time hitting its intended target dead on.
~Chicago 7:00 pm~
Tara felt nervous standing beside Josh as he talked to the maître d of the upper end Chicago restaurant. Other than, the diner where she had served others, her experience with dining out was nonexistent. She had been hesitant to accept the invitation but Josh had been persistent in asking her each morning at the coffee shop since their meeting a few days earlier. Now she stood wearing a black dress that in her own full-length mirror had appeared more elegant than it now did in the lighting of the restaurant.
"Right this way Mr. Kohn we have everything ready." The maître D answered in a very formal tone.
"You ready." Josh turned to Tara offering her his arm before proceeding to the table that had been prepared for them. He chuckled softly as they walked through the restaurant at the clear shock on her face when he had extended the courteous gesture.
"What?" Tara spoke the word feeling a little insecure as they walked through restaurant.
"You are so charming Tara it's as if you have been hidden away all these years. If I didn't know any better I would swear you have never been on a formal date." He stepped behind the chair at the table pulling it out for her to sit.
Tara could feel her face growing crimson at his words he was right she had never been on a formal date. Jax had been the first guy to ever show any interest in her what so ever and even though they had many wonderful memories he wasn't let's get dressed up and go on a date type guy. Jax Teller was more of a lets grab a burger and a beer kind of guy.
"I have never been on a real date before." Tara replied meekly her voice barely a whisper as her eyes surveyed the menu. She had never seen such high-priced food before either.
"You are kidding me? A beautiful woman like you? Let me guess school has kept you busy all these years." Josh winked at her as he spoke the words.
"Something like that." Tara replied not wanting to encourage a conversation about her past.
As she looked at the crisp blue button up shirt that Josh wore with a tie and suit coat Tara wondered if she could just pretend to be an orphan. The thought appealed to her and even seemed somewhat realistic since the only people she ever spoke to in Charming anymore were Dr. Martin and Donna Winston. Her conversations with Donna changed they had once talked several times a week and now just sporadically once every few months when time allowed. More and more she found herself less concerned with what was going on in Charming. Dr. Martin was really the only consistent contact and link she had to the past. Tara knew he would never betray her secrets rather he encouraged her to move forward with life and stay away from the Charming and the MC.
Tara unfolded the cloth napkin in her lap as she thought briefly about Jax. She remembered her vow on the bus the day she left a vow to go back and claim what was hers. A vow to unseat Gemma from her queenly pedestal. Now as she looked around at the people in the seats all carrying on gleefully in their own conversations and living life she wondered if returning was truly what she needed to do.
"Can I tell you about our specials?" The waiter's voice shook her from the memories that had entered her subconscious without invitation.
Josh observed Tara's expression as the waiter spoke to her she was indeed a beautiful flower that had been kept hidden all these years. He liked the innocence yet obvious intelligence that she conveyed during their talks at the coffee shop. The fact that she was attending medical school on scholarships and working in the hospital part-time was extremely impressive to him. She seemed like a young woman who had herself together unlike most he encountered. He thought about the pitiful women they found clinging to their man during a drug bust hopeless cases they were never able to break free from scumbags they proclaimed to love. Josh had no use for such a women and in truth, they disgusted him. A smirk crossed his face briefly as he thought about the last druggie whore that had begged him to let her slip away from the scene. She had offered quit a few thrills for her ticket to freedom. He had declined.
"Trust me?" Josh arched his brow as he peered down at the menu and back up into Tara's hazel colored eyes.
A submissive smile crossed Tara's lips as she nodded her head indicating yes. She liked that Josh was a take-charge kind of man not that Jax had not been take charge but the man before her was more polished. He clearly had himself together and his job was most impressive. Tara like the thought of what he had to offer in that regard a great deal. She found herself aroused in a way that had not surfaced in many years, well since she had left Charming to be exact. Her smile and desire grew as Josh confidently ordered for them both.
Tara's fingers fumbled as she tried to insert the key in the lock opening the door of her apartment she quickly flicked on the light so they could enter.
"Nice apartment." Josh offered as he looked around at the simple one bedroom apartment that was meticulous.
"Thanks. It's nothing fancy but close to the campus and well it belongs to me." Tara smiled the wine they had consumed at dinner warming her cheeks.
"Is belonging to you important?" Josh asked as he walked over closing the space between them.
"I have never really had much that belonged to me." Tara whispered the words almost inaudible as she lowered her face to the floor her brown hair cascading around her. "Never belonged either." She thought back to the many years before Jax had entered her life. The time had been empty and void she truly had not belonged to anything or anyone.
"Perhaps I can help you find a place to belong." He lifted her chin brushing the hair from her face. "If you would like that is."
A small smile curved up the corners of Tara's mouth for the first time in years as he lowered his lips to hers.
~Charming~
Conor stood in front of the pictures pinned on the corkboard before him. He had rented the small warehouse to keep business separated from his dwelling. Sure, he had weapons stashed all about but it wouldn't do for the pictures before him or the schedules he had made of their comings and goings to be found where he laid his head to rest at night. After the horrible missing piece of the puzzle had escaped him about Hannah Marshall, he refused to take anymore undo chances. His blue eyes continued to roam the pictures with little emotion until he came to the last few. They bothered him especially one in particular. He regretted for a moment that he had even inquired about the additional jobs, but he had to know. The sound of the metal door opening distracted him as he turned around glancing into the man's hazel eyes.
"Two shots to hit the target." Conor glared at the man before him angrily. "Might I suggest you visit the shooting range and brush up? It is time you remember why they requested you come to Charming and set up camp as fine upstanding member of society. It was to be the eyes and ears these last many years for the Marchese's. Your day job has made you…" He paused for a moment. "Soft. Not to mention the background information you gave me on her was lacking a great deal of detail!" He turned tapping his finger on the picture.
The pair had worked several jobs together over the years despite him being much younger in age. Conor McGregory had come onto the scene making a name for himself swiftly in the circles they traveled. Even though they were friends and business, partners for lack of a better word there were times that he truly hated the son of a bitch. Times like now.
"Yeah well mate I didn't tell you to bed down with her now did I?" Dr. Martin glared into Conor's raging blue eyes.