Forty-Nine

"I ain't happy wi' this."

"You've been very clear about that, sweetie," Eden smiled gently, pausing in her packing of her medical bag to give her concerned old man a little kiss, but evading his arms and refusing to let him distract her for too long. "And I've listened to everything you've said."

"And decided to go anyway."

"Yup. Because you've told me all the reasons why I shouldn't, but you haven't flat-out told me not to. Because you know you need me. You know how bad infections can get if left untreated."

"I know. I just ain't sure I should care."

"He wasn't the one who took me, Filip. You know that deep down. You wouldn't have even told me otherwise. If it helps, I genuinely think he was furious at Mack. He knew he'd gone too far."

She was right – he did know all that. It was the only reason Archie Vane was still even breathing. That and Chibs had no fucking idea what to do with him, leaving them all trapped in a holding pattern. The younger biker's badly burned face had only taken on a more livid, inflamed quality though, leaving the Sons watching him to suspect he'd never had any kind of medical treatment since the explosion at the meth house, bar his own apparently ill-advised efforts to clean himself up completely unsuccessfully. It was clear the man was suffering and Chibs' own medical ability had only gotten them so far, plus he knew Tig was struggling to have to look at him. Hap wasn't fazed, but Tig …

They had to do something. Put the bastard out of his misery, or get him proper help. For now, it seemed tentatively broaching the subject with Eden had given them their answer.

"Fine," Chibs huffed, hands on his hips as he watched his old lady bustle about. "But you ain't ever alone wi' him. He lays a hand on you, I shoot him in the head. He says a word to you I don't like, I shoot him in the head. He even looks at you in a way I don't like-"

"I think I get the picture," Eden said wryly. "You gonna carry this bag for me, or are your hands gonna be too full of guns?"

"You're not too big to put over my knee, you know, lass."

"Promises, promises," she winked, leading the way to her car.


If Chibs had been uncomfortable bringing his old lady back into this messy business with the War Boys at all, that only intensified when he pulled his bike up behind her car at the cabin and clocked the way she was sat gripping the steering wheel as she took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Shite," he muttered to himself, quickly unbuckling his helmet and climbing off the Harley to hurry over and open the driver's door of the car. "You do not have to do this, love," he told Eden firmly, but she was already grabbing her bag from the passenger's seat.

"I'm okay," she said, giving him a look at his obvious scepticism. "I am. I'm not scared – not with you here. He's just … a reminder of a lot of pretty dark shit I'd really rather forget."

"Which is exactly why I didn't want to bring you here in the first place," Chibs sighed.

"You didn't force me, Filip. I agreed. I wouldn't have if I really couldn't face it. I can help. I want to help. I'm doing this for you, for the club, not for him."

Chibs cupped her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. "Let's get this shite done and get you home. I'm gonna send Tig wi' you when you're finished. Burns are … tough for him."

"Do I want to know?" Eden asked curiously at that.

"You really don't," he said grimly, shouldering her bag for her and taking her hand to lead the way across the overgrown yard, greeting his VP as he stood smoking by the back door of the cabin. "Tigger, how ya holding up, brother?"

"Fine," came the short reply, although the curly-haired biker quickly pitched his cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out under his boot at the sight of Eden, waving away any remaining smoke. "Hey, doll."

"Hi, Tig," she smiled softly, taken aback to see the pain in those piercing blue eyes and making a mental nod to push Chibs on what the story was there. Not for the sake of sheer nosiness, but out of genuine concern.

She knew Tig was something of a wild card in the MC's eclectic bunch of bikers, but she'd been so touched by his reaction to her pregnancy and she knew how loyal he was to Chibs. She also wasn't aware of any old burn injuries to him personally – and given that, among other things, he'd once dropped his pants at the clubhouse bar to show her where he'd apparently been bitten on the ass, she was pretty sure she'd seen enough of him to know – so she could only assume he had perhaps lost someone in a fire. And by the look on his face, she had to guess it was more recent than, say, a childhood trauma.

"You gonna need help in there?" Tig asked, already seeming to brace himself for the answer.

But Eden immediately shook her head. Whatever was tormenting the biker, she wasn't going to add to it. No matter what they might be facing.

"We've got it," Chibs said, patting his VP's shoulder. "You good to wait here? Keep lookout and then make sure Eden gets home?"

"Whatever you need, brother," Tig said, understanding and gratitude that he was clearly being cut some slack plain on his face.

"Good man. Right, come on, darlin'. Let's get this over wi'."


"If I have to listen to you whining for much longer, I swear I'll kill you myself! Sorry, it's just been such a stressful time and she gets hysterical. Needs to remember where her loyalties lie …"

"I'm telling you, my husband wouldn't do this!"

"Husband," came the scoffing response. "That no-good prick was always trouble, challenging Johnny any time he didn't get his way. It'd be just like him to try sabotaging things just to undermine him and now look at the mess he's made. You need to forget about him and worry about your brother, lying in hospital with one fucking leg thanks to your husband!"

Alyssa Vane fought back fresh tears at that, but stood her ground in her sister-in-law's cluttered kitchen. "Archie wouldn't turn on Johnny, he wouldn't. They might have butted heads, but at least he was straight with him. He wouldn't do this! I don't know why he hasn't come home – if he's hurt or if someone's taken him. We need to find him, Stella. You have to tell Johnny to at least get the club out looking for him or-"

"You think I can tell Johnny anything right now, the state he's in? Don't be so fucking selfish, you stupid bitch! Do you have any idea what's at stake here? Well, do you? How the hell can he keep control of the club if he can't even fucking ride? Sorry, sorry, I know he's just lucky to be alive, all things considered."

The third party to their undignified row smiled tightly at that, dark shadows under his haunted blue eyes.

"Maybe the club should be looking for this Archie, if you're so sure he's the one responsible."

"What good would that do?" Stella demanded, but she didn't dare take quite the same tone with him as she did with her hapless sister-in-law. "The club needs our focus to be here. Mourning Mack, getting Johnny out of the ICU. If Archie's run out on us, bringing him back ain't gonna fix anything."

No, as far as she was concerned, quite the opposite. Archie - the convenient scapegoat - turning up would only cast doubt on her hastily spun version of events, not to mention perhaps expose her own lack of loyalty towards Johnny. She had feared the VP had at least starting to suspect something was amiss about the exact nature of her relationship with Mack and, much as she was inwardly reeling at the loss of her illicit lover, her pragmatic side had already kicked into self-preservation mode.

No good could come of their affair being exposed now. Not when her only hope of clinging to some semblance of power was in acting as Johnny's representative. Oh, naturally it wouldn't sit well to have a woman calling the shots, but if she could convince their dwindling members that she was simply giving voice to their precious president during his recovery – and that also meant convincing them there was actually a chance of recovery, which hadn't been too problematic so far, having simply neglected to tell them about the amputation – then there was at least a chance they would come to accept the unconventional set-up. If Alyssa didn't open her trap. And if Archie didn't suddenly reappear with a very different tale to tell.

That was a lot more ifs than she was comfortable with.

Not to mention the added complication of their unexpected guest, even if she was intrigued by him. He had a lot of questions though, which was understandable, she had to allow. Understandable, but problematic.

Turning up the sympathy, Stella laid a hand on his arm, her fingers caressing the clearly expensive sleeve of his suit jacket. "No," she sighed. "Bringing him back won't fix things ..."

"Oh, I don't know," Shane Rockwell said, eyeing her coolly. "Finding whoever got my brother killed might make me feel better."


"You were right to bring me here," Eden said softly, as soon as she got close enough to get a look at the War Boys biker's inflamed wounds. "He's in a pretty bad way. You're going to have to untie him and get him on a bed or a couch, a table even …"

Chibs shook his head at that. "Wi' you anywhere near him? No chance."

"Filip, I have to be able to reach him," she said, a note of impatience creeping in now she was in work mode with a patient in front of her. "He's in no fit state to try anything."

Even the Samcro president could see the truth in that, even if he didn't like it. "Fine," he growled, with a jerk of his head. "Hap, Rat, get him down. Leave his hands tied."

His men complied, eventually laying their captive out on the heavy wooden table, his head lolling weakly to one side, only for his pained eyes to widen just a little when they landed on Eden.

"You …" Archie managed.

"Me," she agreed. "I'm here to treat you."

"Aye, and I wouldn't make any sudden moves if I was you, pal," Chibs growled from just over her shoulder. "If I think - even for a second - you're a threat to her, the only thing you'll be needing's a body bag."

"I won't … I wouldn't …" the War Boys VP mumbled, trying to address first Chibs and then Eden directly, grimacing as her gloved fingers started to examine the extent of his injuries. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he tried to bear it without complaint, but couldn't help the occasional grunt when it bordered on unbearable.

"Sorry," Eden said, conscious of how much she had to be hurting him. "I will give you something to ease the pain, but I need to know exactly what we're dealing with first."

She could practically feel Chibs bristle at hearing her apologise to one of the enemy, but she just continued to treat him like she would anyone else who needed her help, slowly, carefully, methodically.

"Okay," the paramedic sighed finally. "You've obviously got a lot of second-degree burns, which is why you're in so much pain and that's causing your body to go into shock. Some of the wounds are also infected, which doesn't help, so I'm going to see what I can do about making you more comfortable before I even try to clean you up – get some pain relief and fluids into you. Then we'll see about antibiotics. I promise I'm not going to hurt you any more than I have to. Okay?"

"W-Why are you doing this?" Archie asked.

"Because you need help," Eden said simply. "And maybe because if things were different and it was my old man in your position, I'd want someone to help him."

The look in the eyes staring back at her told her he thought that was pretty naïve, but she didn't care. She knew it would probably be wishful thinking, but it was the truth.

"Your old man told me about the baby," Archie blurted out, just as she turned away to dig through her well-stocked medical bag. "We weren't exactly bonding – he had his hand round my throat at the time. Look, I … I had no idea. Shit that went down, it was already fucking wrong. You being pregnant … If I'd known …"

"I didn't even know," she said, her hand drifted subconsciously to her stomach, a fresh chill running down her spine at the memory of Mack's violence and aggression.

"I don't know how bad he hurt you, I just … I know it don't mean shit, but I'm sorry. I got a wife – the thought of her in that position … No wonder your man wanted Mack dead."

Thrown by the sudden image in her mind of the biker choking on his own blood, Eden pressed the back of her wrist to her mouth and willed herself not to throw up, before muttering her excuses and swiftly heading for the door, with a worried Chibs hot on her heels.


"I'm okay," Eden tried to pre-emptively reassure her old man, but pale as she was, it wasn't exactly her most convincing performance. "I just … needed some air."

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind and she gave in to turning and burying her face in his chest, not wanting to admit that she just couldn't get what had happened with Mack out of her head for more than a brief reprieve.

"I got ya, my love," Chibs murmured into her hair, seeming to know anyway what was on her mind. "I got ya. Anything I can do to make it better?"

"This helps," Eden managed, her arms around his waist as she felt his comforting hold tighten to keep her cradled close. "Sorry, I know I need to … put it behind me …"

"Hey, you don't ever have to apologise," he said firmly, drawing back just enough to look at her and press a kiss to her lips. "I'm so damn proud o' you, my strong, beautiful girl."

"I don't feel particularly strong or beautiful right now," she smiled wryly at that.

"You kidding me? You've been through a hell o' a lot, Eden, and you're still here. Still standing. You saved my life, now you're gonna bring this new wee life into the world … You couldn't be any more fucking incredible. I love you, darlin', more than I got the words to tell you."

Seeing the easy tears that filled her eyes at that, Chibs chuckled softly and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. "Now, that's enough o' that – or you'll set me off too, lass, and I've a reputation to uphold. Can't have everyone thinking the Samcro president's a bloody soft touch, ya know."

"Heaven forbid," Eden laughed, wiping her eyes and leaning in to kiss his cheek. "My big, bad biker. I love you."

"Boss?"

Turning at the gruff interruption, Chibs raised an eyebrow as his sergeant held out a burner phone to him.

"Bug," Happy said simply. "Says he's got an address for you."

"Already?" Chibs said, with a quick glance towards Eden. "That lad's wasted on us. Coulda been a fucking fed. I gotta take this for a second, darlin'. You good to go back in? Hap'll stay close, won't ya, bud?"

The shaven-headed, stern-faced biker nodded silently, waiting patiently while his boss stole another kiss from his girl and then letting her fall in step beside him as they headed for the door of the cabin.

"Baby's big as a lemon now," Happy informed her, apropos of nothing she could discern. "Got vocal chords."

"Uh, okay …"

"Told this asshole I'd cut his out if he upsets you."

"Oh. Wow," Eden managed, wide-eyed at the tall, imposing biker's matter-of-fact tone. "Uh, thanks, I guess?"

"You're welcome."