Nine

With the after-party in full swing and the Sons delighted to have watched both their president and their sergeant take bloody victories in the ring, they were more than happy to indulge themselves, even if Chibs had warned them to keep one eye open for any more signs of trouble from the no doubt disgruntled War Boys.

Meanwhile, the Scot had finally decided he should probably face the music with Seth and, spotting the huge gym owner nursing a beer in a quiet corner, he headed that way, his hands raised in good-natured surrender.

"I come in peace," Chibs said, trying to keep it light. He wasn't used to bothering to tread so carefully around anyone, but for some reason, he did want to avoid any unnecessary aggro – especially with Eden's family. "We gonna have a problem, man?"

"You tell me," Seth said coolly, taking a long swig of his beer.

"It ain't what it looked like …"

The look he got in response to that was sceptical at best and even Chibs couldn't blame him for that. As excuses went, he had to admit it was pretty lame.

"Really? That's the line you're going with? Listen, Chibs, much as your attempt at talking your way out of this might be entertaining if it wasn't my little sister you were nailing, I'm going to save you time and cut to the chase. I got a lot of respect for you. Hell, I even like you, despite you deciding to throw my launch night into disarray, bringing your MC turf war bullshit into my ring. But you disrespect my sister, or you hurt her in any way, and, president or no president, I will fucking destroy you. Are we clear?"

"Aye, crystal," the biker nodded, after a moment's consideration and deciding that was probably fair enough under the circumstances.

"And I never see that shit again," Seth added. "Seriously."

Also fair, Chibs thought - noting with interest that he hadn't seemed to demand it never actually happen again.

"She's a grown-ass woman," Seth added, seeming to read his mind. "And I'm her brother, not her keeper. It ain't for me to tell her how to live her life. Don't mean I gotta be happy about it."

"If you were a patch, we could take it to the ring …" the biker shrugged, reluctant to bring it up when he was still aching from his last impromptu bout, but feeling strangely honour-bound to at least offer the possibility.

"And give you even more of an excuse to go running to Eden for some TLC?"

The two men exchanged wry smiles and any tension seemed to crumble as they started to laugh.

"We ain't got a problem here," Seth sighed. "But I mean it about not dicking her around, dude. The fact she's let you get close in the first place – don't underestimate that."

"You're still not gonna tell me what went down wi' you two then?"

"When she trusts you, she'll tell you. But, Chibs, she …" Seth trailed off, looking conflicted over how far to go in his warning. "She ain't a reliable narrator when it comes to that story, that's all I can say. Remember that."

Chibs frowned, more perplexed than ever as to what the hell the siblings had been caught up in, but also more determined to find out. And preferably sooner rather than later.


"So you're the one who broke my VP's nose – I was expecting someone … younger."

Chibs' jaw tensed at the sly insult, but he forced a smile on his face as he turned from his place at the bar to take in the apparent president of the War Boys and a few of his men who had fallen in behind him. The squat shaven-headed man in front of him looked even younger than his number two.

"What can I say?" the Scotsman shrugged easily. "Yer no in the playground now, fellas."

"Funny. Who the hell are you anyway?"

Drawing himself up to his full height, and having a good couple of inches on his counterpart, Chibs simply stared right back at him for a long moment. "Given that ya felt the need to come over here wi' yer wee show o' strength, I'd say you know exactly who I am," he drawled. "Question is – who the hell are you?"

Tig was by his side before the War Boys president could even open his mouth to reply.

"There a problem here?" he demanded, glaring at the rival club members he'd ruffled by unceremoniously shouldering his way through.

"Just about to get an introduction from our wee pals here," Chibs told him. "Ain't that right, boys? Jesus, don't tell me yer lads are all mute? I'm almost jealous …"

"Cut the shit," came the snapped response. "We just want to make sure you get the message to stay clear of our business. You assholes had your chances to make serious bank and you blew it. Way I hear it, you're out of the game anyway, so just leave us to it."

Chibs raised an eyebrow at the turn the conversation had taken and in so public a setting, hazarding what he thought was a pretty good guess at what was meant by it. "Guns? Yous are getting into the gun trade?" he asked. He might have laughed, if the memory of the bloodshed and carnage that had been brought to their door wasn't still so raw in his mind. "Trust me when I say that ain't something ya wanna broadcast."

"Unlike your boys, we ain't scared of a little heat," the War Boys president sneered. "So just consider this a warning from Johnny Six. Stay the fuck away."

Tig and Chibs watched them go, before exchanging a glance.

"Did he just refer to himself in the third person?" Tig mused disapprovingly.

"Aye, I think the bastard did," Chibs sighed, slinging a companionable arm around his brother's shoulder – before his attention was caught by a glimpse of Eden.

"You hitting that again?" Tig grinned. "You got taste, man, I'll give you that. Can't say the same about her …"

"Fuck you, Tiggy," Chibs laughed. "Now, go find Bug and tell him to start digging into anyone local using the alias Johnny Six and anyone linked to the War Boys MC. I wanna know everything about these wee shites."

"Where you gonna be?"

"For now, digging into someone else I'd like to know better …" the Samcro president said, his gaze never leaving the little brunette across the packed gym.


Mortified as she still was at the thought of what her brother had walked in on, Eden couldn't help the little shiver that ran down her spine at the sight of the biker president striding towards her. Whatever was going on between them, the basic attraction was undeniable and his arm slipping around her waist sent a little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, even as he pressed an all-too-brief kiss to her lips.

"Hey," Chibs murmured. "You look great, darlin'."

Out of her medic's coveralls and in a black leather skirt and dark green silky camisole, her hair tumbling over her shoulders in soft waves, she flushed lightly at the compliment. "So … do we need to worry about Seth going on the rampage?" she asked, realising their little exchange alone had already drawn more than a few curious glances.

"I did have a wee chat with big brother," Chibs shrugged, casually pulling her into his arms. "Can't say he's thrilled, but turns out he's decided not to break my legs yet."

"Yet?" Eden echoed.

"Think he's saving that for in case he decides I've got plans to mess ya about."

"Oh," she said thoughtfully, her hands sliding up his arms to rest lightly on his biceps. "And … do you?"

"Got plenty o' plans for ya, lass. Messing about ain't one o' them," he whispered in her ear, bringing the heat back to her cheeks again. "Hey, whadda ya say we do this the old-fashioned way? Once tonight's outta the way, let me take you for dinner sometime."

Eden raised her eyebrows at that. "What, like a date?"

"That such a surprise?"

"Guess I just … didn't think that was a big, bad biker's style," she said lightly.

"Oi, I can make an effort …" he said, feigning offence that she might think otherwise, but there was still a little twinkle in his warm brown eyes. "When I want to. And trust me, darlin', I want to."

It wasn't that Eden didn't believe he was genuine, but she still couldn't help the hesitation creeping into her mind. She may have been joking about big, bad bikers, but … She'd heard enough to know what the lifestyle could be like, plus she'd witnessed the clubhouse in full swing herself. And after everything she'd had to deal with, more complications were the last thing she needed.

Did she really think it was a good idea to be getting involved with an older man, one probably used to casual hook-ups and putting everything second to his beloved club – a club that put him and anyone close to him squarely in the sights of everyone from rival gangs to local law enforcement to the feds? Even if that man was looking at her with a sudden glimmer of concern.

"You do trust me, don't you?" Chibs asked quietly, reaching to brush a stray lock of hair back behind her ear and letting his hand cup her cheek, a little frown knitting his brows.

She wanted to say yes, she really did, but her moment's pause meant it was already too late. She could see it in his eyes. "Filip … It's not that I don't trust you. I just … Sorry, it's stupid …"

The flash of whatever it was that had crossed his face faded away and he shook his head. "Hey, no. You don't gotta apologise, pet. I get it, honestly. Trust's gotta be earned, yeah? I promise ya, I ain't gonna push for more than the chance to earn yours."

Touched by his understanding, knowing as she did that she hadn't told him the whole story or anything remotely like it, Eden managed a faint little smile. While she thought he meant what he was saying, she didn't exactly have much confidence someone in his position would have the patience for that though. Not with a clubhouse that was regularly filled with strippers and porn stars. Easy, uncomplicated lays.

But Chibs simply pressed a surprisingly chaste little kiss to her lips. "One step at a time, darlin'. Yeah?"

Unconvinced, but wanting to believe him, Eden found herself nodding anyway.

She still couldn't help thinking their connection would prove to be short-lived though, if he knew the truth.