When V. came to Charming, she came on a bike. It wasn't her preferred mode of transport, but she was running scared, and it was what was available. Little did she know that it was the bike that would get her in the most trouble of all.

Charming is a nice town. It's picturesque. The day V. got there, though, it was really fucking hot. She was in jeans and an a-shirt and was dripping. The bike was hotter than she was--too hot, and smoking black. First stop was going to have to be a garage. Luckily, Charming isn't a very big town, so it only took a minute to find one. Good thing it didn't take any longer-the bike was sputtering by the time V. pulled up and cut the engine.

Climbing off the bike and pulling off her helmet, V. looked around. Some repos, a couple of cars up on lifts, and a whole bunch of motorcycles, all of which were in a hell of a lot better shape than hers was. As she walked up to take a closer look at them, a guy came out of the garage. Dressed in dirty jeans and a sleeveless tee, he wiped his greasy hands on a rag as he approached her.

"Hey there darlin'. Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I hope so. I've been riding for days and my bike's fucked. Overheated, I know, but I think there's something else wrong." V. jerked her head towards the parked bike. As he walked towards it, and towards V., she was glad for her sunglasses. She was staring. He was tall, built big but not huge, and gorgeous. Dirty blonde hair to his collar, sparkling eyes, and a smile that lit him up. There was something, too, about the way he moved. Predatory, graceful, self-assured.

Before turning his attention to the bike, V. could see he was sizing her up.

I can't be making a very pretty picture, she thought. In old clothes, with helmet hair, sweaty, beat up.

But he didn't seem repulsed.

Jesus. I shouldn't even be thinking about what he's seeing looking at me, or how he looks. The last thing I need in this town is a guy. I need to get my bike fixed and keep moving.

"Was it smoking black?" he asked.

"Yeah. For a few miles now."

"You got a lot bigger problems than being overheated. I'll take a look." He peered against the sun at her. "You're not from around here. I'd recognize someone looks like you."

She couldn't help it, she blushed. There was just something charming about him. Dammit.

"No. Just passing through. Passing through quickly." It came out sounding nastier than she'd intended it to.

"Alright." He backed away, holding up his hands, still smiling. "Nobody's holding you hostage. But you ain't goin' much farther on that heap." He turned his attention to the bike. "Yeah. I can take a look, sweetheart, but..." He shakes his head.

Suddenly, V. was exhausted. The days of riding feel like weeks, the weeks before them like years. Now this. One more fucking thing. Her shoulders slumped. She sighed. The man studied her face. His eyes were curious, compassionate.

"Look, it's too goddamn hot to make any big decisions now. Why don't you stay in town tonight, let me take a look at this, and figure out your play in the morning?"

Something about his face made her think, briefly, that she could trust him. A dangerous thought. But there wasn't really another option. If the bike wasn't going anywhere, V. thought, she was better off here than on the side of the highway.

"OK. Is there a motel or something around here? I could use a shower anyway."

"Yeah." He smiled again, not trying to hide his gaze as his eyes ran up and down her body. "And you could use a shower."

She smirked, then grabbed her pack off the back of the motorcycle. "Which way?"

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "That way. Too far too walk, though. Give me a minute, I'll give you a ride."

V.'s first instinct was to refuse. She didn't need any more interaction with this guy than was strictly necessary. But she was so tired. "OK. Thanks."

The man turned away, headed back into the shop. Just after he disappeared, two more men appeared. V. tensed as they approached. One man was older, shorter and heavy, with a frizzy head of hair and glasses. The other was tall, with a thin, scarred face. Both were wearing cuts. Sons of Anarchy MC. Of course. The shop, the line of nice motorcycles. This was a club house. V. rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. Should have fucking known.

"Hi there princess." The younger man spoke with a brogue--Irish, probably. Neither man tried to hide their assessment of her, looking her up and down. "Something we can do for you?"

"No. Thanks." V. spoke tightly.

"You sure?" The older man smiled as he spoke. "That your man's bike?"

"No." V. didn't smile. "Mine."

The men exchanged a glance. It was one V. recognized. A chick on a bike? Intriguing.

"In that case," the man with the brogue spoke again, coming closer, "I'd be happy to take a look at it for you."

The blonde man returned, coming up behind the other two. Now he, too, was wearing a cut. V. noticed, as he approached, that his chest bore a patch reading "V. President." Good Christ, she thought. I sure know how to pick 'em.

"Hey, Jax," the older man spoke to the blonde man. "We're headed to LuAnn's. But if the lady here needs help, it can wait."

Jax smirked and shook his head. "Go ahead. I got this."

The Irishman whistled low. "I bet you do, Jacky boy." He again looked at V. "You going to introduce us to your new friend?"

V. drew herself up. Best to be as polite as possible, she thought, until she could get the hell out of here. "My name's V."

The Irishman smiled. "V. Nice. I'm Chibs."

The older man extended his hand. "Bobby."

V. took off her glove before shaking hands with each of them.

"And I'm Jax." He smiled lazily again. "It's nice to meet you...V." As he spoke, his gaze raked over her again. She felt a little chill in the heat. There was definitely something predatory in that stare. He motioned towards the motorcycle at the end of the row. "You ready to go get that shower?"

Both Bobby and Chibs smirked as they mounted their motorcycles, then peeled out of the lot.

The ride to the motel was brief--it was only a couple of miles. I really could have walked, V. thought. It felt strange to put her arms around this man. Not as bad as she'd have expected. For a moment, she even relaxed into him. It was nice to let someone else drive.

She's a tense one, Jax thought, noticing her relaxation move out of her as quickly as it had moved in. He'd had a lot of women on the back of his bike, and he never remembered feeling one this stiff against his back. Tension or not, though, she felt good. Her grip was strong. Though she was trying to stay as far away from him as she could, he could feel her tits against his back, the muscles of her thighs against his. He never got tired of that.

She was off the motorcycle before he'd even fully stopped in the motel parking lot. The place wasn't much, but she looked relieved to see it.

"Thanks." She didn't look straight at him.

"No problem darlin'. Come back by the shop tomorrow and we'll talk about your ride, OK?"

"Yeah." She turned around and headed towards the motel office. He watched her ass move under her old jeans, appreciative, until she was inside.

Ten minutes later, V. was looking at herself in the mirror of her motel room bathroom. Christ, what a mess. The makeup she'd applied days ago was gone; the shadows of a healing black eye and bruised cheek were clear on her face. She was covered in road dust. Her face and arms and chest were sunburned. Stripping out of her clothes and stepping into the hot shower, she tried to avoid looking down, but couldn't help it. It was still there, of course, a jagged, half-healed incision, from sternum to belt line. At least it didn't look infected.

V. showered for a long time, letting the water pour over her and lathering her hair three times with cheap motel shampoo. Maybe it was good that she'd had to stop. She hadn't realized just how tired she was. Getting out of the shower, she didn't dress or even dry off. The minute her head hit the lumpy pillow, she was asleep.

***

As deeply asleep as she was, V. woke immediately to the pounding on the door. It felt like it had been only five minutes, but the neon numbers on the alarm clock told her differently. Almost five hours. Not sure where she'd thrown her bag, V. pulled the sheet around her and went to the door. Looking out the peephole, she saw Jax leaning against the door frame. Sighing, she pulled the door open.

"Hey, I..." he trailed off, taking her in. She was shorter without her motorcycle boots, but still quite tall. Curvy, even under the sheet. And bruised. One side of her face, around her neck. It hadn't been so obvious under her layer of grime and in the bright sun. He could see her eyes, now, too. He could see she was scared. Swallowing, trying to ignore the curve of her cleavage where it peeked out of the sheet, he continued. "I need to talk to you about your motorcycle."

"I thought you said to come by the shop tomorrow."

"Yeah. This can't wait."

She looked at him levelly, trying to keep her cool. "OK. Just a minute. Let me get some clothes on."

"Don't bother on my account, darlin'." He raised an eyebrow.

She didn't respond, just closed the door in his face. A moment later, she reopened it, dressed now in clean jeans and a tank top, and jerked her head, indicating that he could come in.

Jax entered the room trying to concentrate on what he'd come here to say and not on her. There was something compelling about her. Something almost scary. Which was ridiculous, really. He sat down on the unmade bed. She stayed standing, leaning against the motel desk and fixing him with her gaze.

"So," he began, "next time you jack a bike, you should try to get one that runs."

V. drew her breathe in sharply. Fuck. It hadn't even occurred to her that they'd run the plates. She didn't respond, just looked at him. Her mind raced. She had to get out of here. Now. But it wasn't like she could outrun him, and attempting to steal his motorcycle was too stupid even for her.

"I can see what you're thinking. Don't. Look I...we...don't care that you stole a bike in Texas." He saw the fear flash in her eyes again. "But the one you stole is wrecked. More wrong with it than right, and not worth fixing." He watched her face. She looked like she was figuring out what she could hit him with before she bolted. "And you can't steal another one here. That we will care about."

V.'s mind continued to spin. There was some money left, but not enough to buy another bike, or a car, or even a plane ticket. And she didn't really know where she was going anyway. She hadn't thought much about any of it--she'd just run. Jax got off the bed and moved towards her. She tensed, her eyes darting around, looking for an escape.

"How long you been riding?"

The question surprised her. It wasn't what she'd expected. He was standing in front of her now, only a few feet away. The room seemed too small for both of them. She could feel him breathing.

"A few days. Week, maybe." She honestly wasn't sure even what day it was.

"Where you headed?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

He smiled. It looked so kind. Don't be stupid, she thought.

"OK. No more questions." He moved a bit closer. Something was drawing him to her. She looked so small, so scared, leaning against that motel desk, her hair messy from sleeping, her face tenderized by the bruises. Her eyes never stopped moving, landing on everything in the room but him. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but thought better of it.

"Look--why not stay in Charming a day or two? Take a rest, figure out your next move."

She didn't like the idea, but didn't have a better one. Unless she was about to be arrested for stealing the bike.

"Who knows about the bike?"

"Just us."

"Us?"

"The Sons."

She nodded. "Law?"

He smiled. "We're the law in Charming. Don't worry about it."

His phone rang then, and he continued watching her as he flipped it open. He spoke only a few words, then closed it and began to move towards the door. Her voice stopped him.

"You won't tell anyone?"

"No." He turned and looked at her again. It was still hot, but she had her arms wrapped around herself. Again, he felt compelled to move towards her, but stopped himself.

"Listen, we might be able to help you." The words were out before he knew what he was saying. "I don't know what you're running from, and I don't need to know. But you're running."

"Perceptive." She pursed her lips and stared back at him, trying to keep composed.

"You don't want our help, that's fine." He turned towards the door again. "If you do, though, you know where to find me."

As the door clicked behind Jax, V. sunk to the bed, her head in her hands. She wanted nothing more than to follow him, to sink into his strong arms and tell him the whole story. To let him help her, protect her. But she knew better. She didn't even know him. She was on her own.

***

When Jax walked into the clubhouse, the bar area was already littered with Sons and hangers-on. Clay, the club's president, and Gemma, Clay's wife and Jax's mother, stood at the bar, beers in hand. Jax motioned for one.

"How'd it go with the Bike Jacking Bitch?" Gemma asked.

"Fine."

"What's the story?"

"Don't know--she won't say. But she's runnin' from something."

Gemma peered at her son. "Shit," she sighed. "You got that look."

"What look, Mom?"

"Hot thing with stolen bike and a nice rack comes in with a hard luck story and you're all moon-eyed. That's trouble you don't need, Jax."

Jax smiled at his mother, remembering how V. looked wrapped in her sheet. He raised his eyebrows. "That's exactly the kinda trouble I need."

"Well it ain't trouble we need," Clay broke in. "There's enough shit going down around here without some slit who steals bikes."

"She's not going to steal from us." Jax answered. "She's scared, but she's not stupid."

Clay nodded. Gemma shook her head. "She stayin' around?" she asked.

"Don't know. Doubt it."

Gemma watched her son as he strode towards the pool table. He'd grown into such a good man. Tall and strong, loyal. She worried, still, though, about the softness in his heart. And, where women were concerned, the softness in his head.

"What are you thinking, baby?" Clay asked her.

"I don't know. There's something about this girl, though. Jax is seein' something."

"Probably just needs a lay. Haven't seen Lady Doctor in a while. Bobby said she was a good lookin' girl."

"Yeah. Maybe." Gemma furrowed her brow.

"Don't worry about it, baby." Clay put his arms around her. "I got something to take your mind off it."

Gemma smiled and followed her husband into the back of the clubhouse.

At the pool table, Jax missed an easy shot. "Fuck."

"Mind's not in it, brother," Chibs chided.

"Guess not." Jax tried to concentrate on the balls as Chibs sunk his shot. When Chibs sunk the 8-ball he'd missed before, Jax threw the cue down in disgust.

"You want to go find her?" Chibs asked. The clubhouse was pretty quiet. There was nothing underway.

"Nah. She's probably on her way out of town already."

"Then let's go find something else to do. Dead here."

"Alright."

***

There wasn't a lot going on in Charming on a Tuesday night. Unable to go back to sleep after her visit from Jax, V. had been walking for what felt like hours. A couple of restaurants, a barber shop, a hospital, a couple of churches, a couple of bars. Satisfied she'd seen all there was to see, she swung open the door of the worse looking of the two bars. If she was going to get drunk, she might as well go with the cheaper option.

V. had only been on her stool 20 minutes when she heard the Sons come in. She was nursing her second beer, following up her second shot. She didn't turn around. She didn't mean to, but she strained to hear Jax's voice. Before she even heard him, though, he was behind her.

"Decide to stay around?" His voice was dangerously close to her ear. She closed her eyes, briefly, willing herself to get her ass off the stool and get the hell out of the bar. But she knew she wouldn't before she even opened her eyes. She swung around on the stool and came face to face with Jax. The Irishman, Chibs, was on one side of him. To the other side, a tall man with a beard.

"V., this is Opie. You've met Chibs."

"Hey." She shook the bearded man's hand.

Jax took the stool beside her and motioned to the bartender for a beer. Chibs and Opie sat nearby. When the bartender brought the beer, he brought another shot for V. as well, which she took quickly, without flinching. Jax smiled and held up two fingers, indicating the bartender should bring him one and her another.

"We gettin' drunk?" he asked her.

She looked at him. This was probably stupid. She should leave now. But she was so tired, had hurt so bad for so long. Maybe this would be fun.

"Yeah."

He smiled. "Good. I can do that."

Ninety minutes later, the bar was lined with empties, and for the first time in what felt like forever, V. was smiling. She didn't talk much, mostly listening to the three men telling stories, laughing, teasing each other. With each drink, V. felt herself relax a bit more. Jax watched her closely, seeing her shoulders relax, her face open up. Her eyes still looked guarded, but she was meeting his gaze more. When Chibs and Opie got up to play pool, Jax stayed on his stool, turning his full attention to her. She really was pretty--perfect skin under those bruises, long, dark hair, and those scared, sad green eyes. Her body was hot, too. He reached out, gently, and brushed a stray hair off her bruised cheek. She flinched; he quickly drew his hand away.

"What happened?"

V. sighed. "Long story. Joke with no punchline."

He nodded and ordered another round.

"You gonna stay around?"

"I don't know. For a while, I guess." V. sighed. "Not like I can walk out of here."

Jax smiled. "Why'd you steal the bike?"

"Same long story. Leave it alone."

Jax nodded. She really wasn't going to talk. For a few minutes, the two drank in silence. V. could feel Jax watching her, but he didn't say anything else.

"Listen," V. began, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. It's just...I can't really talk about any of it, OK?"

"OK." Jax smiled again. Disarming, that smile. Opie and Chibs came back over and said that they were leaving. Both of them were smiling and jeering in Jax's direction as they left. V. rolled her eyes. Clear where this was going. And it was so not going there.

"I'm not going to sleep with you." Much as I'd like to.

Jax laughed, raised his eyebrow, and didn't answer. Sure you are. Maybe not tonight, but you will.

"It's late. I should get back and get some sleep." Drunk now, V. felt sleepy. She also knew herself well enough to know that she'd be better off not to spend any more time with this charming man. The more she drank, the more charming he got.

"Alright. Let me give you a ride."

V. didn't argue, just got on the bike. This time, she didn't try to hold herself tensely away from Jax, but wrapped her arms around in a way that, while it wasn't exactly flirtatious, was at least friendly. Jax noticed, again, the feeling of her muscled thighs and arms, the length of her legs. He wished she hadn't already said she wouldn't sleep with him. But he wasn't beyond giving it a try anyway.

Arriving at the motel, he turned as she dismounted the bike, holding her wrists. She seemed surprised, but didn't pull away. The evening, or the alcohol, had relaxed her.

"Stay."

"In the parking lot?"

"In Charming."

She smiled. It really was lovely when she smiled. "Maybe."

"You don't have anywhere else to be, do you?" The way he said it wasn't unkind.

"No."

"Then this place is as good as any."

"Maybe," she said again. "I'd have to find a job."

"What do you do?"

"Anything that doesn't ask too many questions. Or require a pole."

He laughed. She hadn't seemed like a stripper, though she certainly had the body for it. She started to pull away again. He didn't let go. Instead, he stood, straddling the bike. He kissed her quickly, his hands still wrapped around her wrists.

She didn't pull away. She just looked at him, her eyes clear, meeting his.

"Goodnight, Jax."