Twenty-Six

"You could have just taken us back to mine," Lyla pouted, teetering on her heels as she and Eden followed a stern-looking Chibs into the clubhouse, both of them still definitely feeling the influence of the night's drinking.

"Decided it was probably safest to keep the pair o' you where I could keep an eye on you," he said dryly, over his shoulder. "Can't imagine why."

"Oh, please," she rolled her eyes. "Like none of you guys have ever gotten arrested."

"Not over something stupid."

Lyla just stopped and stared at him, until he realised what a stretch it was to try to make her believe that and conceded the point with a shrug.

"Aye, all right – but I expected better from you two," Chibs sighed, glancing between her and Eden as the latter made her way behind the bar. "Oi, can you not be helping yoursel' to more drinks when you're already shit-faced? Seriously, getting into drunken scraps in clubs? What are yous, sixteen?"

"Are you kidding me?" Eden interjected, even as she deliberately downed a shot of his favourite whiskey and poured herself another. "Did charges get pressed? No. Because it was self-defence. That asshole deserved it."

"Way I hear it she's got a broken nose …"

"She? What the hell are you talking about? Chibs, he had his hands up Eden's dress – that's sexual assault!" Lyla exclaimed, outraged by any suggestion they might have been the ones in the wrong.

The biker's head snapped round sharply. "What?!"

"Exactly. You'd have cut his damn dick off if you'd been there."

"And shoved it up the motherfucker's arse!" Chibs confirmed hotly, thrown to clearly not have been told anything like the whole story by the cop who'd released the girls into his care with a smirk. "Jesus, I was led to believe it was just some catfight … Darlin', are you okay?"

Equally caught off-guard by the concern both in his voice and written all over his face as he turned his attention back to her, Eden managed a little nod and then simply raised her glass to throw back the whiskey she'd been sloppily swirling in it, wincing at the burn of it in her throat.

"She was amazing," Lyla enthused, leaning over the bar with an uncustomary lack of grace to snag herself a glass and thrust it out expectantly, letting Eden slosh a generous measure into it. "Nearly laid that prick out."

The biker's brown eyes seemed to bore into his former flame, unconvinced by her forced nonchalance. But, uncertain how to handle it under the circumstances, he decided all he could do was park it until the morning when everyone would hopefully have sobered up.

"Right, well, no more bloody booze, either o' you," he scolded, rescuing his whiskey from their clutches and putting it back behind the bar. "It's late so, uh, Lyla, you can take my room – Eden, Charlie's is free. Boy's gone to visit his ma."

Eden smiled wryly at that, swaying just a little on her heels. "You gonna at least tuck us in, Mr President?"

Chibs pretended he hadn't heard her.


"I know what you're doing, you know," came Lyla's almost sing-song teasing from the tiny bathroom attached to his room, where she was struggling out of her dress and into a spare Samcro t-shirt. "Not letting Eden stay in your room … Too much temptation, was it, hmm?"

Chibs sat down heavily on the edge of his bed and wiped a hand over his face, wondering when the hell babysitting drunken women had become part of his role as president.

"Oh, come on, admit it – she blows your mind in that dress," Lyla called, finally emerging to flop down beside him, sprawling out like a starfish on top of the covers. "Hell, she blows my mind and I only swing that way for the cameras! It's not too late, you know. Comfy as I am right now, I'll get up, go sleep in Charlie's room. I will do that for you, Chibs, 'cause I love you even when you're grumpy with me. No, no, listen - I'll go to Charlie's room and Eden can come here, snuggle up with you and …"

He rolled his eyes at the suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows, but quickly shut her plan down.

"Appreciate the offer, darlin', but not a good idea. Listen, you stay here and I'm gonna go get you some water. Your wee head's gonna be banging in the morning."

Realising the truth of that, Lyla wrinkled her nose in displeasure and shifted to bury her face in the pillows as if that would block out the inevitable oncoming hangover. "At least go take Eden some ice for her hand," came the mumble. "Please? That scumbag shook her up more than she'll admit."

Chibs heaved a sigh. "Aye, all right. She really broke his nose, huh?"

"Yup," Lyla confirmed proudly. "I'd have gone for his balls personally, but the girl throws a mean punch."

He couldn't help the little smile that tugged at his lips, sharing in her pride – much as it troubled him that the little paramedic had found herself having to resort to such a move in the first place - before reaching to give her knee a friendly little pat and then heading for the door, pausing only to grab a shirt from over the back of a chair as an afterthought. "I'll be back wi' that water, pet."

"I won't wait up," Lyla called after him, with a knowing little giggle.


Nursing her right hand as she sat on Charlie's bed in a much smaller, much more cluttered room than the one Chibs had at his disposal – clothes strewn on the floor, the walls covered with posters of girls and bands and bikes and cars - Eden flexed her fingers experimentally, wincing just a little. Maybe she'd feel it a little more when the numbing effect of the alcohol wore off, but she knew enough to be pretty sure nothing was broken. Well, nothing save for the nose of the asshole who had tried touching her up.

It wasn't the first time some random guy had tried it on, either in a club or while she was working, but he had been one of the more persistent and the memory of his hand shoving roughly between her thighs – vivid even through her own otherwise drunken fog – still made her skin crawl.

Forcing herself unsteadily to her feet, she managed to peel her dress off in the dim light of the bedside lamp, tugging it over her head just as a knock came at the door.

"Only me," came that familiar Scottish brogue. "Just checking you're all right in there."

"You can come in," Eden called, shrugging when the biker walked in only to stop in his tracks at the sight of her in nothing but her panties. "What?" she smirked, staggering clumsily out of her heels as she dropped the dress on the floor and he turned his back in evident discomfort. "Not like you haven't seen it all before …"

Chibs cleared his throat awkwardly, ignoring that and holding out a flannel button-down without looking at her. "Here, brought you this to sleep in. Wasn't sure Charlie-Boy would have anything clean."

Even drunk as she was, it wasn't lost on Eden that the checked shirt was one of her favourite things to sleep in. The soft material, even freshly laundered, always seemed to hold just the faintest hint of something that invoked its owner. She'd slept in it in her own bed while he was off on a run once and it was like having his arms still wrapped around her. The thought of that comfort now misted over her eyes until she quickly blinked them clear again.

"Thanks," she managed softly, taking it and pulling it on, mumbling vague curses as the tiny buttons proved too much for her alcohol-clouded dexterity or lack thereof.

Guessing the problem, Chibs huffed a sigh and turned around. "C'mere," he muttered, tugging her closer and working on doing them up himself.

She swayed drunkenly, her hands automatically reaching for him to steady herself and, before he could process what was happening, she'd planted her mouth on his in a desperate kiss. His back thudded up against the door as she shoved him up against it, their tongues tangling passionately, everything they had both missed poured into that long, searching kiss. But when her hand cupped him through the rough denim of his jeans, reality came crashing back in.

"Eden, stop," Chibs managed, however reluctantly, trying to pull away from her as she clung to him. "Stop."

He grabbed her wrists while she laughed at him like it was a game and then it was his turn to slam her up against the door, pining her wandering hands above her head. But she only eyed him as if in challenge.

"Careful, Chibby," she warned, her words still slurring slightly. "I might like it rough …"

Even like this – drunk off her ass, his shirt barely buttoned, her hair rumpled and her smoky eye make-up smudged like some fucking hard partying model or something – he thought she was bloody beautiful and, despite every instinct telling him not to, with her lithe little body pressed between him and the door, he couldn't resist seeking out another deep kiss. And, arching into him, she was only too willing to oblige.

It would be so fucking easy to let it go further. To pull down those sinfully tiny panties and bury himself inside her, to throw her on the bed or fuck her right there up against the door until she came screaming his name.

But in the morning, they'd be back to square one. Only she'd hate herself and him and he couldn't bear that.

So Chibs forced himself to pull away, shaking his head when she tried to protest. "No. We can't, Eden. You know we can't."

"Nuh-uh," Eden immediately argued, her fingers curling into his t-shirt. "We're both grown-ups. You've done this with plenty of women. Just one night, if that's what you want. What's the big deal?"

Yeah, he had to concede he wasn't exactly presenting a compelling argument against that - stood there with a raging hard-on he couldn't seem to will away, even before she somehow managed to undo the buttons of that damn shirt again with much more efficiency than her previous efforts to do them up. It slipped slowly off her lightly tan shoulders and he swallowed hard.

"I know you want me," she whispered, leaning in to graze her lips against his, her bare breasts pressing against his chest.

God have mercy on his fucking soul.

"Please, Filip …"

But ultimately the slur in her speech and the glassy look in her eyes spoiled the effect and Chibs' jaw tightened, his simmering temper flash-igniting to see her in such a state. And, sure, he could acknowledge he had probably played a part in that, provided a reason for her to drown her sorrows, but that only made him feel worse.

He pushed her roughly down on the bed.

The look on her face could have been lust or anger, but instead of joining her, he pulled away again like he'd been burned.

"No!" he raged, slamming his hand down on top of the chest of drawers. "I said no and I fucking meant it - I ain't shagging the woman I love like some cheap whore. Get your drunk arse to bed, Eden. We're done here."

Her bottom lip wobbled at his harsh tone and her wide eyes welled with tears, but he forced himself to harden his heart and turn his back, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him. He could only imagine the thud that followed was one of her shoes hitting the wood.

He came face to face with Lyla, clearly having resorted to retrieving a glass of water herself and ended up overhearing at least some of what had gone down.

"Well," she said archly, sipping her water as she considered him. "At least you're doing a sterling job of helping her not be in love with you."

"Aye, and I'll probably fucking love her 'til me dying day," Chibs sighed, with more exasperation and frankness than he'd intended. "But at least if the two o' yous keep this kind o' shite up, that'll not be too much longer."