Disclaimer–I don't own anyone you might recognize from this story. They're their own property or that of their respective creators.
Note: This is slightly AU. In my world, Half-Sack & Hale don't die and the story doesn't go along with the plot of the show…but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
"Be polite, be professional…but always have a plan to kill everyone in the room."
-Eve "E" Hyde
Only a handful of people were hanging around the bar at the Sons' clubhouse that Friday evening when the woman walked in. Several appreciative pairs of male eyes followed her short, curvy figure as she stepped up to the bar. She said something to the sweet butt tending the bar, and the girl turned away to pour her drink while the stranger leaned casually on the bar, scanning the room from behind a pair of dark aviator shades.
Juice peeled his eyeballs away from the newcomer to glance at the man sitting near him in a recliner, a blonde crow-eater draped over his lap.
"You see that, Hap?" He asked the older man, who just nodded.
"Think I'm gonna go welcome her to Charming." Juice stated with a cocky grin and a tug at his cut.
Happy watched the younger man cross the room to the stranger. Leaning against the bar next to her, said something even as his hand cupped her ass.
The next thing he heard was a loud crack, and suddenly Juice dropped to his knees, swaying as blood gushed from his nose and mouth, a 9mm pressed against his skull. Happy shot to his feet, reaching into his cut for his gun before the blonde even hit the floor.
In the few seconds it took him to stand and draw, he took in his target. She was standing there calm as you please, the gun pressed to Juice's shaved head in her left hand and another 9mm in her right, out but pointed at the floor.
He had her sighted in and was getting ready to tell her to drop 'em when the doors to the chapel behind him burst open as Clay, Tig, and Chibs stormed into the room. Clay drew up short halfway to the bar and put his hands on his hips.
"Goddamnit E, you just walked through the fucking door and you've already pulled a fucking gun on someone?" he thundered. The woman just smiled, a cold curl of her full lips.
"He grabbed my ass, so I thought I'd give him a lesson in manners," the woman said, as conversationally as if they were discussing the weather. "I thought you taught your boys better than that."
"What can I say? He's a slow learner," Clay shot right back. "You want to put those pieces away?"
The woman nodded her head towards Happy.
"Him first."
Clay turned to Happy and gave him a nod. He hesitated for a few seconds before sliding his Sig back in its holster. As soon as his hands were clear the woman pulled the gun away from Juice's head and tucked them both back into the double shoulder holster she was wearing under her black leather vest.
As soon as all the weapons were safely put away, Clay walked up to the woman and enveloped her in a back-smacking hug.
"I am damn sure glad to see you, you crazy bitch," he stated as he pulled away.
"I would have been here sooner, but I was out of the country when I got your message. You know how it is." Her voice was low and smooth, with a southern accent.
"You're here now and that's all that matters. How's the ol' Hammer doing?"
This time, the woman's smile was warm when she answered Clay's question.
"Pop's fine. The Black Lung has gotten a little worse, but you know that ain't gonna slow him down."
"Good, good. You remember Tig and Chibbs, don'tcha?"
"Evie-girl, it's good to see you," Chibbs said as he grabbed her in an enthusiastic squeeze that lifted her off her feet. Planting a loud kiss on her cheek, he lowered her feet back to the floor.
Tig looked down at her with his best charming smile on his face and arms spread wide.
"I knew you couldn't resist me. You came all the way to Cali just to get a piece of me, didn't ya babe?"
The woman actually laughed at that, the sound warm and rich.
"You're just too much man for lil' ol' me, Tigger darlin," she said as the third man embraced her.
Clay turned his attention to Tig.
"Get Jax and anyone else in town here in 10. I got some things to discuss and it ain't optional."
Tig turned away, phone already pressed to his ear. Clay surveyed the bar.
"Everyone NOT wearing a reaper on their back, get gone. NOW!" he barked, sending crow-eaters, sweet butts, and hang-arounds scrambling for the door.
"I'm guessing that doesn't include me?" the woman asked sweetly. Clay glowered.
"You stay. Everyone else not a Son, goes. Where's your stuff?" he asked.
"Still on my bike. I wanted to scope things out and find you before I settled in."
"Prospect!" Clay snapped at the skinny young red-head hovering by the door. "Go get her bags."
The young man's eyes bounced between his president and the woman. Taking pity on him, she smiled at him.
"It's the red and black Rocker."
The boy nodded like a bobble head as he headed out the door.
The other men seemed content to stand around and shoot the shit while they waited on their brothers, but Happy was busy studying this small, harmless looking female that had managed to get the drop on him and bust Juice's face all in the span of a couple of minutes. He mentally kicked himself for not noticing she was strapped when she came through the door.
His dark eyes raked her, sizing her up. She was a short little thing, maybe a couple of inches over five feet. You couldn't exactly call her petite, not with those big ass tits, tiny waist, curvy hips and round ass. Tattoos sleeved half of both her arms, and there was enough muscle under her copper-tan skin to tell him she was stronger than she looked.
Hell, so did Juice's face, he thought as he glanced over at the dumbass, who had managed to get himself into a chair. He sat there with his head tilted back, trying to stop his nose from bleeding with a bar towel.
Returning his gaze to the woman, he continued his assessment. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a thick ponytail of jet black that still hit her mid-back, making the eyes focus on her face, which was still half-hidden by those damn dark glasses. What he could see was a small nose, high cheekbones, and some very pretty, lush lips.
He let his eyes slip further down her body. A red tank hugged some truly spectacular tits, the word 'vicious' splattered across her ample chest in black, blood-spatter type script. The black leather vest she wore over the tank had to be there to cover the guns.
Faded, ripped jeans clung to voluptuously curved hips, exposing more tan skin on her muscular thighs, their ragged hem falling over studded, scuffed black motorcycle boots.
She reached for her drink and he saw that her hands were covered by fingerless black leather riding gloves. Something winked as she moved her hand, and a closer look revealed sharp studs over her knuckles that would cause some damage in a fistfight.
As if feeling his eyes, she turned her head slightly in his direction and he had a feeling that he was being assessed as well from behind those tinted lenses. A small half-smile quirked her lips before Tig spoke to her, drawing her attention back to him.
The prospect, Half-Sack, busted through the door carrying a big black duffel bag and a smaller version of the same. He stopped in front of Clay and the woman. She smiled warmly at him, and his face flamed red.
"Thanks, sugar. I didn't catch your name earlier." He got even redder at the term of endearment, if that was possible. He cleared his throat nervously before answering.
"They call me Half-Sack, ma'am. Where do I put these?" he asked, his gaze darting to Clay.
"Put 'em in that empty room that Gem cleaned up the other day. Made damn sure the sheets are clean and that it's fit for a lady.
"On it, boss," he said over his shoulder as he headed towards the bedrooms.
Jax, Piney, and the rest of the Redwood Original Sons that were in town had all filtered into the clubhouse while Happy was watching the woman.
Finally satisfied that everyone was present and accounted for, Clay stood to make his announcement. The woman was standing behind him, leaning against the bar.
"Boys, I want you to meet Eve Hyde. She's a friend of the club, here all the way from Kentucky. Her dad, James "Hammer" Hyde, is the prez of our Kentucky chapter. Some of you may have met him before. But this ain't no social call. I called E here because she is one of the best in the world at what she does. She can help us with our little federal problem, in particular. I want you all to treat her with the respect you would give another brother, and if she tells you to do something, you damn well better do it like it came directly out of my mouth. Any questions?
"What exactly is it that she does?" Jax asked skeptically. E stepped up beside Clay, finally removing her shades to expose big, dark eyes to the group of men. Hooking the earpiece of the shades into the top pocket of her vest, she looked around the group of men, meeting every one's eyes briefly before locking on Jax. She smiled again, that cold baring of teeth back before she answered.
"Well…people have problems. I fix them. Permanently," she said, looking around the room once more, seeing enlightenment dawn on most of the faces.
