Clay crooned softly as Gemma ran a hand through his hair. "Like you're going to let me forget," he said with a challenge in his voice followed with a wry look. He loved pushing Gemma's buttons. For one it made her feistier, which made the sex even better. But it also showed just how strong she was. He really couldn't stand weak women. Sure they were nice in the clubhouse when they cleaned up after the brothers. But a weak woman was just revolting.
"Well, you're no spring chicken," Clay responded with a sarcastic, verbal jab, one he knew he would pay for later. Of course if he didn't want to pay for it later, he wouldn't have said it. "Yes ma'am!" He gave her a mocking salute and put them on the road to home. And their family.
He really was free, he thought, as they soared down the highway. He passed a few cars on the way back to Charming. And no one dared pass him. Even after 13 months of relative silence, the Sons of Anarchy leather still demanded respect on the open streets.
"What. the. hell." He echoed Gemma's concern as he came to an abrupt stop. As he looked around, he noticed other things looked wrong. Buildings looked newer. There were more cars on the street than usual. How had he missed those things? "I have no idea." Clay couldn't stop looking at Hale. Despite having gruesomely murdered people, dismembered others, and watched with almost glee as a man's skin was burned off with a blow torch, Clay's stomach still cringed at the imagery of Hale being ran over by that van.
"I'll call Bobby." Bobby was the club's treasurer and probably the man whose advice Clay trusted the most. He reached into his pocket and took out the prepay cell that Gemma had brought him. Somethings you always make sure you have. And a disposable cell was one. "That's odd. No signal whatsoever. Alright. Let's go to the shop."