Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with SOA, it's production or casting. Only Grainne is my creation.

A/N: I don't normally write three different fics at once whilst job hunting, so forgive me if I don't update every quickly


"Grainne...you out there?"

Bastard came after me – always did. Didn't want his little princess running off on him. She knew too much – he'd raised her to be another of his chapter and she'd told him where to stuff it the night he'd walked in on her with that outlaw. She didn't owe nothing to the hells angels. They shot themselves in the foot with this wild child – trying to control her when it was better to let her loose. If they'd gone with the latter, they would've got her back one day but no more. No – Grainne was on her own these days and there was no point calling her that any more. She didn't answer to the name Grainne.

And why the hell was I thinking in third person? God, I needed to get my head sorted out. I didn't know when or where I'd stop, but once they were no longer on my tail I'd stop. Damn Pagan's weren't much better. Still, I'd always preferred a Triumph to a Harley – not as nice to look at, but I found that I got on with them better. Not everyone did, but I had them figured out quicker, plus British quality over American any day – my opinion, I'm entitled to one, aren't I? Well, I did ride a triumph until the birthday just gone. See, I'd always preferred to race my bikes, so daddy dearest went out and brought me a Yamaha YZR-M1. I could out-run those searching for me and leave them for dust...but where's the fun in that? Then again – I was starting to run low on cash...oh, I had my means of getting what I needed but I wasn't in the mood for degrading myself. I needed a bolt hole and that's where I was headed. See, my idiot of a cousin was a prospect for a one-percenter MC somewhere in the middle of Cali. I was another 20 miles from Oakland and there was another 50 miles after that to get to this town Kip had been talking about. I could make it there in less than half an hour, but I'd get stuck with some dumb ass fine that I couldn't afford.

"Grainne bitch. Get you skinny, lily white ass back here now and maybe I won't beat your lame excuse for a skin into a coma"

Oh that was it. No one threatened me – screw the fine, I needed to get out of here. If they found me now then I was dead. I had not made it this far just to get dragged back to New York. Besides, there was nothing for me there except more beatings and more abuse. I was not going to stay subservient to a group of aging, obese bikers who couldn't score else where. Shit man, this was my chance – y'know? How could I pass it up when it was this damn close? They were still a fair distance off from where I was and wouldn't hear me. Fumbling for my cell, I knew I had to call Kip and get my ass down to him...needed to lose the cut as well – only wearing it because I had nothing else. Pulling the cell out and casting the cut to one side, I searched for Kip's name whilst keeping an eye out for those hunting me.

"Hey Grainne, I-"

"Shut it, I'm on slicks and about 70 miles away. I'm stitching a line. Be ready for me. This ain't no swoop Kip"

Sliding the cell down and into a pocket, the rev of the engine gave me away and I waited for them to get close enough to think they'd caught me before slipping out of their grip. The wind was burning cold tonight and it was killing me – as was the exhaustion. But Kip wasn't that far off, fingers crossed he wasn't in church – unlikely, it was almost midnight and from the background noise, this club has one very interesting concept of church. I didn't take notice of what was going on around me – the scenery faded away and I was running on instinct by now. I had this weird connection to my cousin. We just seemed to be able to find each other no matter what. I had to stop thinking about what was behind me and concentrate on not getting hit by a cage. I was usually really good on the roads, but these Cali natives drive differently – not as predictable as the New Yorkers. I wasn't sure how long I'd been going for – maybe just under an hour when some asshole pulls me over. I mean, can you believe it? God, I was going maybe 5 miles over the speed limit and I get pulled but cagers can go 20 or 30 over and let off. Jesus, I thought walking out was meant to be god Karma for me but it'd been nothing but trouble so far. Maybe it was worth getting used if it meant I didn't get no shit from the highway pigs. Most people didn't seem to understand the phrase pigs – something I'd picked up from my mama – gorgeous English bird – a cop really...but cop struck me as giving them too much respect. They didn't deserve it.

"Do you know how fast you were going?"

"Does it matter? You'd not pull a cager for being couple of miles over, but because I'm on a bike it's different"

"No – bikers get treated well in Charming. Now, as I was saying-"

"I'm in Charming?"

"Yes...as for the-"

"I'm looking for Kip Epps...know where I can find him?"

"Now look here miss, before I let you go I need to know-"

"Do you know him or not?"

"Well, yes. I would say I know the all the Sons. You'd do better to call him half-sack though"

"Thank-you. Look, I swear I'll come and see you tomorrow...just right now I have a group of Hells Angels on my ass and need to get this bike stashed. I don't think you want that kind of trouble so where can I find him?"

"Teller-Morrow garage, but they're in-"

"Church? No worries. I just need the bike out of sight and I usually take priority. Who are you, so I know who to ask for"

"Deputy police chief David Hale"

"Thank-you"

Worked every time. Bat your pretty eyes and have no intention of reporting in. Caught them hook line and sinker every single time. Now, as for this garage...come on little cousin...where the hell are you? Garage shouldn't be too hard to spot. Aw, to hell with it – worth ringing him again and letting him figure out where I am, needed to be fast though, those assholes could be on my tail at any moment.