Chibs had already started the motor on his bike when Clay approached and motioned that he wanted to talk. Chibs remained astride his bike but turned off the ignition. "I 'spose you're heading over to see that Irish chick," the president growled. The hackles on the back of Chibs' neck went up. For some reason, Clay was not in Aoife's fan club. Chibs couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

"Aye," Chibs confirmed with a nod.

"You got your prepay on you?" Clay asked, arms crossed. Chibs pulled the phone out of the pocket of his cut and waved it slightly in the air, biting down his desire to make a sarcastic reply. "Good. Things have been quiet lately. When things get quiet, I get nervous." Chibs just nodded, not trusting his voice to remain level. "Oh, and one more thing. I got a message from McKeavy today. He'll be here within the week."

"Aye. Let me know when you hear more," Chibs replied, pushing the emotions swirling inside him deeper so they wouldn't reveal themselves. The conversation over, Clay stalked back to the garage. "Fuck," Chibs muttered under his breath. He'd been so wrapped up in Aoife lately that he hadn't thought about what would happen the next time the IRA brought their guns in. McKeavy and his crew might not know anything about Aoife. But then again, they might know everything. He needed some intel to figure out the best way to keep his lass safe. Chibs put the kickstand back down and made a beeline for the clubhouse.

Juice was in his room, his hip-hop music blasting from the speakers. Chibs knocked. No answer. "Juice!" he yelled. Still nothing. He pounded on the door with his fist and bellowed, "Juice!"

"It's unlocked!" came the reply. Chibs stepped inside the room and went directly for the stereo. He turned the volume down by half. "Hey, that's a good song!" Juice protested, finally looking up from his video game. Then he saw the frown on Chibs' face. "Something wrong, Chibs?"

"Juicey-boy, I need you to do me a favor. You still got that contact in the police station?"

Juice grinned. "Oh, yeah..." He closed his eyes as if he was remembering, and Chibs rolled his eyes. Most of Juice's "contacts" were clubhouse hang arounds. They worked regular jobs and then tried to spice up their weekends by partying with the Club. Chibs lightly flicked his middle finger at the younger man's ear. "Focus."

"Is this Club business?" Juice asked.

"Christ, I hope not. I need to know if the police have IDed guy that Aoife shot."

"I know for a fact that they haven't. Her wasting that guy was quite the talk around the station for a few days, but with the open and shut self-defense case, he's low priority and is still chilling in the morgue."

"Ok, so I want you to do two things for me: number one, see if you can ID the guy." Juice raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that. Even Unser knows you hack into the police department computers for fun. I'm guessing you'll find he's from either Ireland or the UK, with ties to northern Ireland and possibly the IRA. And then I want you to make sure no one else can ID him. Hack his file, get him sent to Skeeter ASAP. Once you get the tech stuff done, let me know and I can help with that last part."

"What are we doin', man?" Juice asked. Chibs considered how much information to provide. He banked on the brother-sister vibe he had gotten from Juice and Aoife's conversations the night before.

"We're protecting Aoife."

"Ok. That's all you have to say. I'm in."

Aoife leaned forward and pushed Chibs' hair off his forehead. It wasn't long enough to actually get in Chibs' way, but he loved the feeling of her doing it. "Are you sure you're alright, a ghrá? You barely said a word while we were at the restaurant, and you've been standing there just staring into nothing for more than a minute." He caught her hand in his and held it to the side of his face. He hadn't realized how long he'd been standing in the doorway to her bedroom.

"Sorry, love. It was a long day," he answered vaguely, kissing the palm of her hand before releasing it. Chibs pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. He stared deep in Aoife's beautiful blue eyes and locked all of his worries about McKeavy's arrival in a dark corner of his mind. Nothing would happen to Aoife as long as Chibs was there. "You're so damn beautiful," he whispered as he cupped her cheeks in his hands and brought his lips to hers. She took hold of the collar of his cut and held his lips tight against her own. Her kiss was fierce and hot, and it took every ounce of Chibs' willpower to finally pull his mouth away. He rested his forehead against hers. "We should get some sleep. You're already up later than you like to be."

Aoife shook her head, even as she flicked the light switch to off. She kissed him again, and then kissed his scarred left cheek so that her words tickled his ear when she whispered huskily. "You can take me to bed, but I'm not ready to sleep. I want you, you handsome Scot, a rúnsearc."

If she'd said anything else, Chibs might have pulled away and been more insistent on sleep for her, but as soon as she called him handsome, he was done in. "Little Irish minx. You're so damn sexy," he hissed her as her lips ghosted over his jaw and her fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt. His strong hands slid down her body and came to rest on her hips.

"Only for you," she breathed. She pushed his cut off his shoulders, followed by his button down shirt. Chibs watched her. The only light in the room came from the streetlights outside, putting the room in shades of gray. Her milky white skin shone next to the dark shirtwaist dress. Chibs kissed Aoife as his rough, calloused hands slowly undid the buttons down the front, one by one. He broke the kiss so that she could pull his black wifebeater shirt over his head. Then he slid the dress off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. She stepped back and removed her bra and panties, leaving her naked in front of him.

"Mother of Christ," Chibs growled, admiring her in the faint light. "You're fucking gorgeous." He kissed her deeply while he maneuvered her back to the bed and lowered her onto it. He broke the kiss only as long as it took him to crawl on top of her.

"Your accent is stronger tonight," she whispered when he dipped his head to kiss along her collarbone.

"That's passion, love. Happens when I'm in bed with a gorgeous, sexy, Irish minx." He punctuated each descriptive word with a nip at her neck. He propped himself up on an elbow to look at her. "Your accent's stronger, too."

"Aye, I suppose it is. For similar reasons." Her voice sent chills of pleasure up his spine.

"I want to hear it in your voice. Tell me, darlin'," he instructed as he traced the line of her jaw with his lips.

"I can't even think right now," she protested between pleased little whimpers.

"And why's that?" Chibs pressed on, as his kisses continued down her neck.

"Because I'm being kissed senseless by a sweet-talking, sexy Scotsman who's stolen my heart," Aoife replied. "My Filip." He growled appreciatively into her neck at that comment. Now that the moment he had been fantasizing about had arrived, he wanted to take his time and savor it. She wanted him. Him, Filip Telford. Crow eaters pursued him because he was a Son, a rebel with a Scottish accent and dangerous-looking tattoos and scars. He knew that to them he was either a bad boy fling or a rung on the status ladder. But Aoife wanted Filip, and his bruised and blackened heart sang. He couldn't possibly deserve a second chance at love, and yet here he was.

Chibs had had a lot of sex in his life – there were always willing crow eaters to provide release, but he hadn't made love in over a decade because it felt like lying. Laying a line of kisses all the way from ankle to thigh felt like a series of promises, and he liked to think he was a man of his word. Until Aoife, he hadn't taken his time to run his fingers along the swell of a breast, drawing gasps from his lover, or lazily tongued his way from wrist to elbow and then to shoulder, reveling in soft skin. There was no more talking for a long time, as gentle kisses and caresses did all the communicating that was necessary. He slid down the length of Aoife's body and began to worship every inch of her skin, starting with kisses on her ankles. Chibs relished every whimper as he ran his hands and lips over Aoife's smooth curves. He had forgotten the dreamy haze of being lost in the overwhelming contact, of losing track of where the edges of him ended and she began.

"Filip," Aoife raised her lips from his shoulder to whisper. "Your boots." Reluctantly, Chibs pulled his mouth off of her stomach with a final gentle kiss and sat up on the edge of the bed. He bent over to unlace his boots and felt Aoife wrap herself around his back, her tongue tracing the dark outlines of his tattoos. Once the boots and socks were off, Chibs sat another minute, enjoying the feeling of her skin against his back. Then he felt her push him up and tug at his waist, turning him to face her. Her hands manipulated his belt buckle and then the button and fly of his jeans and then he was stepping out of them, clad only in his boxer shorts. Aoife tugged on the waistband of his boxers, and then Chibs was naked. Aoife ran appreciative eyes over his muscled, tattooed formand then pulled insistently on his hips, and he found himself lying on top of her, skin on skin. He kissed her deeply, reveling in her softness and warmth, and then he pulled back to look at her face. She seemed to be frowning.

"You alright, beautiful?"

She cupped his cheek with her hand. "Just nervous. The last guy I was with…well, you know that he messed me up," she told him vaguely, a touch of pain in her eyes. She hadn't uttered Finnbar's name since she had told him her story. Chibs' fists itched to teach the man a lesson. Then he looked down at his beautiful lass.

"Right bastard, wasn't he?" Chibs kissed her forehead and his thumbs caressed the worry lines on her face, massaging them into relaxation. "I can't promise you won't ever call me one, but I don't want to ever hurt you. You're the most amazing woman I've ever met. Do you want me to stop?" Chibs prayed that she would say no, but if push came to shove, he knew he could take care of how he was feeling with a few minutes in a cold shower.

"No, just go slow. Condoms are in this drawer," Aoife pointed at the top drawer of the bedside table. Chibs kissed her gratefully while he reached his right hand into the drawer and felt around for a condom. His hand closed around something metal and cold - a switchblade? Another metal object fell under his searching fingers, and that was definitely a gun – bigger than the one she had used on the thug during the robbery. The dark worry about McKeavy and the IRA threatened to distract him, but then Aoife's hand slid down his body and all he could think about was her.

"Little trouble there?" Aoife teased as she dragged her nails down his stomach. "They're still in the box if it helps."

It did. Chibs located the box and ripped off the flap. He was hard and hungry for her. He rolled the condom on, with assistance from her eager hands that he was only too willing to accept. Despite Aoife's requests to go slow, as soon as he was sheathed in the condom, she was pulling him down on top of her.

An hour of foreplay had charged all of their nerve endings, and their coupling last less than five minutes. Still, Chibs held off until she gasped, "Filip," as she tightened around him, and then he was hissing her name as he came.

In the post-coital glow, Chibs lay on his back with Aoife on her side snuggled up against him, her head resting on his chest. He wrapped one arm around her while his other hand lazily twirled some of her dark tresses around his finger, released, and curled them up again. "Filip?" Aoife whispered softly.

"Aye, love?"

"Táim i ngrá leat." She propped herself up so she could look into his eyes, and Chibs' heart skipped a beat at how vulnerable and yet lovely she looked as she declared her love for him. He couldn't remember the last time he was this deliriously happy. His heart was filled to bursting, but he could tell she still needed assurance. He could say "I love you," but it seemed too easy.

He kissed her sweetly, tenderly, and then whispered back the most romantic thing he had ever heard, something he had never uttered before. "Tá mo chroí istigh ionat." Aoife's face transformed. She was glowing as she kissed him. Soon, her head was on his chest, her breathing steady and even, while Chibs held her and wondered at his amazing luck.

Just outside Charming, the Sons' gun warehouse burst into flames.

a rúnsearc -literally translates to "my secret love," passionate expression of "my beloved"

Táim i ngrá leat - I'm in love with you.

Tá mo chroí istigh ionat - My heart is within you.