Chibs glanced up and down the alley before he knocked gently on the side door of the shop. Aoife leaned the broom against the counter, and her hand went to the pistol in her apron pocket. Then the guarded look on her face shifted to a smile as she saw Chibs' face through the glass. She unlocked the door for him, let him in, and wrapped her uncasted arm around his neck. She pressed her lips to his in a long, lingering kiss. "I didn't hear your bike," she said.
"I know. Part of keeping us quiet, my lass. I borrowed an old beater from the shop and parked it on a side street." He kissed her again. "I love when you greet me like this." Their second kiss was interrupted by the side door swinging violently open, the doorknob smacking into Chibs' road rash-covered hip. Aoife jumped back and reached back into her apron pocket while Chibs' hand went to the gun in the small of his back.
Aoife recovered first and addressed the middle-aged baker who had let herself in and was standing with her arms folded against the door. "Della, I wasn't expecting you back this afternoon."
"I left something in the kitchen," Della explained curtly. She gave Chibs a critical once-over and then addressed her boss again. "I thought you had finally come to your senses and broken it off with him. Damn Sons are nothing but trouble, mark my words." She shot Chibs another glare before pushing past the two of them into the kitchen. He took up the cleaning where Aoife had left off so that she could make up the deposit. They worked in silence until Della barged back out of the kitchen and out the side door, cursing the Sons and foolish young women under her breath. Chibs locked the door behind her.
"Well, she's not a fan, I see," Chibs smirked.
"Not even remotely. I'd like to replace her, because all she does is complain, but she's a fantastic baker." Aoife said as she finished zipping the bank deposit in the pouch. She dropped it in the safe and unlocked the door to her apartment. "But that's not what I want to talk about now. Come on upstairs. I need to get out of these clothes."
Chibs caught up with her as she dropped her keys on the counter. He pressed his body against her back and put his hands on either side of her. "Mmm," he murmured as he nuzzled her neck. "I could do this all day."
"Could?" Aoife asked, turning to face him and kiss him deeply.
"Came over to bring you the holster and spend an hour or two with you, but then I have to get back to the garage for more of Half-Sack's training."
"Training?" Aoife raised an eyebrow.
"Aye. We're putting my prospect in a bare-knuckle boxing match."
Aoife chuckled. "Kip? Bare-knuckle boxing?"
Chibs returned her smile. "You making fun of my prospect, lassie? Aye, he was a boxing champion in the Marines, and we need the cash. But I gotta train him and supervise him."
"Supervise him?" she queried.
"Before the fight - no booze, no weed, no pussy. He's got a thing for this little sweetbutt, Cherry."
"No booze, no weed, no pussy?" She repeated, trying to keep her voice light on the last word. Aoife was still getting used to some of the words the guys threw around that her mother would have washed out her mouth with soap for uttering. "That's gotta be rough for you," she whispered, trying to tease him.
"No, no, love. I'm the trainer. I plan to break every damn one of those rules. Starting with the last one, though I would never use that word to describe you. You're a hell of a lot more than that to me, a chuisle mo chroí." Aoife blushed. Chibs had rough edges, but she'd never met a man who was sweeter or more loving. He swept her into his arms and carried her, laughing, to her bedroom.
Chibs was putting his rings back onto his fingers at the dresser, dressed only in his jeans, while Aoife lounged on the bed in her robe. Her hair was still damp from their shower. "You'll come back later tonight, aye?" she asked.
"You keep looking sexy like that at me from the bed, and I'm not sure I'll be able to leave." He shrugged on his shirt
Aoife smirked at him. "I'd bat my eyelashes at you, but my brothers always told me I looked silly doing it."
"You don't need to do anything to look sexy, a chuisle. Ya just are." Chibs' phone beeped, and he picked it up off the dresser. Still devouring Aoife with his eyes, he answered, "Aye? Great. Thanks, Juicey-boy." He flipped the phone closed again. "Juicey's going to come over and install a security system for you. He'll be here in about a half hour.
"A security system? How much will that cost?" His phone trilled again. "Sorry, lass. Aye?" he answered. "Yes, Tig, I'm heading back now. Yeah, fuck you, too, Tigger," he snarled into the phone. "Tiggy's not waiting very patiently, since I'm supposed to pick up dinner for the boys. What were we talking about?"
"The security system."
"It's all taken care of, lass. Don't you worry 'bout the money. But you'd best get dressed, for two reasons."
"Two?"
"Number one, you'll probably need my help with the concealed carry holster with only one good arm." He laid it on the bed and sat beside her, his hands sliding under her robe to caress her skin.
"And number two?"
Chibs yanked the tie on her robe and the terrycloth fell open. He leaned across her body and nipped her inner thigh. "I'm the only man who gets to see just how sexy my old lady is." His phone rang again. "Oh, for fuck's sake, I'm coming, you muppets," he cursed. He crawled up Aoife's body and kissed her hard before whispering, "I'll continue that later, my sexy Irish minx."
"Promise?" Aoife asked with a smile.
"Cross my heart, lovely. I love you."
"Love you, too. Be safe." Chibs nodded and kissed her again.
"Always. I've got you to come home to."
"Come on, prospect, you can move your ass faster than that!" Chibs yelled as Tig landed another punch on Half-Sack. Chibs' phone rang, and he glanced over at Bobby. "Can you keep Tig from doing permanent damage to Sack's face while I take this?"
"No promises. It is Tig, after all," Bobby said as he downed another shot. He pulled a seat ringside and sat backwards on it, watching the fight.
Chibs flipped open his phone and said, "Let me get somewhere quieter." He stepped outside the garage and hopped up on the picnic table. "Ok."
"Hey, brother," Juice's voice greeted him. "I'm all finished up here. You want to head over so I can show both of you how everything works before I leave?"
"Aye. I'll have the prospect pack it in and be over in a few."
"That's great. Thank you so much, Juice." Aoife started the coffee maker and set out two glass mugs. She looked up at the intelligence officer, who was leaning against the counter watching her. The two of them had spent the evening in companionable silence, Aoife reading on the couch while Juice buzzed around playing with wiring, cameras, and other gizmos she couldn't identify. "You want one of these, too?"
"One of what?" Juice looked at the items she had pulled out of the cabinets and set next to the mugs.
"Irish coffee."
"Never heard of it."
"Hot coffee, whiskey, sugar and cream. Reminds me of home."
Juice looked dubious. "I don't do girly drinks."
"Chibs swears by it," she assured him. "Trust me, there's nothing girly about strong coffee and good Irish whiskey." Aoife winked at Juice.
"Okay, I'll give it a try," he agreed. While the coffee brewed, Aoife wiped down the counter and table. "I don't know if Chibs has told you, but I'm kind of the intelligence guy for the club."
"Aye, he's mentioned that you're a tech whiz," Aoife said. "As if I couldn't tell by what you've done tonight."
"I've been looking into the SUV that ran you off the road, and it was reported stolen. I've got kind of a weird question. You had any problems with skinheads coming into the shop?"
Aoife gave Juice a strange look. "No problems, but they come in from time to time. You know how many places there are to get decent carryout coffee in this little town? I see everyone in the coffee shop." She studied Juice for a minute. "Should I be worried about those guys?"
"I was just thinking, uh, that there are always guys that have issues with the Sons and they sometimes do, and I want to make sure that you're ok. I mean, you're my brother's old lady, but I don't want to overstep my bounds…" Juice continued with his verbal diarrhea, nervous that he was telling her things that Chib should be.
Aoife let him talk while she prepared the coffee. Then she put her right hand out and touched his upper arm gently. He stopped speaking. "Thank you. I appreciate everything you and the rest of the Club do to protect me. I'm suspicious of everyone I don't know now. I'm not taking chances. Take your mug." Juice sank into the loveseat with his Irish coffee, and Aoife perched on the couch, pulling her feet up under her.
Chibs knocked on the door, calling out, "Lucy, I'm home," in a horrible Cuban accent as he turned the key in the lock.
"There is something seriously wrong with you," Juice put in.
"Aye, I hang with you," Chibs retorted without missing a beat. He dropped his cut in its usual place and greeted Juice with a friendly punch in the arm before settling onto the sofa next to Aoife.
"Evening, love," she whispered as she gave him a peck on the lips. "Made you some Irish coffee."
"Every time I see you, you remind me how fucking amazing you are. Your Irish coffee is divine," Chibs said, taking the mug from her. "Ah, you made some for Juicey-boy, too."
"Yeah, man, this stuff is fucking great." Juice said enthusiastically, his already half-drained. "So, here's what I set up for you." He showed them the plans for the security he had installed and all the features, continuing to suck down his Irish coffee. When his mug emptied, Aoife went back in the kitchen and mixed up another one for him.
"Watch yourself, Juicey. My old lady mixes these strong," Chibs cautioned.
"Please, Chibs. I can hold my liquor." Juice rolled his eyes. "Okay, I want to have you two step outside and then I'll turn everything on from my laptop. Then I want you to make sure that you can get in and I don't have to tweak anything before I go."
"Good idea," Chibs took Aoife's hand and gently pulled her off the couch. Outside, they systematically tried each door. When they let themselves back in upstairs, they were greeted by a soft snore from the loveseat. Juice's head was thrown back and lolled slightly to the left. Chibs took the open laptop from his friend's lap and closed it, leaving it on the coffee table. "Love, I'm not sure you should have mixed Juicey's coffee as strong as ours. He's not a whiskey drinker like us," he said into Aoife's ear.
"Aye, that's for damn certain. I could have finished off six like he had and I'd only be getting started," Aoife chuckled. She took an afghan off the coach and laid it over Juice.
"Your forehead is healing nicely. The doc who put in those stitches knew what she was doing." Chibs commented, his fingertips grazing the raised scar from the car accident. Aoife smiled up at him, and he grinned back over his reading glasses. He was sitting on one end of her couch while she lay across it, her head pillowed on his thigh. He used one hand to prop his book of poetry on the couch arm while he finger-combed her hair with his free hand. She resumed reading her paperback novel.
"This is heaven," Aoife murmured as she dropped her book, pages down, on her chest and stretched. Chibs dropped his book on the side table. He didn't need to ask what she meant. He loved their quiet evenings together, sipping Irish coffee and reading. Her eyes met his, and she raised her right hand to cup his cheek. "I love you."
"I love you, too, my lass."
She sat up, yawned, and stretched again. "I can barely keep my eyes open. I've read this page five times and I still don't know what it says. I think it's time for bed."
Chibs nodded and kissed her on the top of her head before heading down the stairs. "Alright. I'll check the security system so we can settle in for the night." There had been no more threats since the black SUV, and even the routine of surveying the street and checking the windows and doors had been folded into their comfortable life in the apartment. More and more of his things were finding their way here - a half dozen books, a drawerful of clothes, spare pairs of sunglasses - and when he told his brothers he was going home, they knew he meant here rather than his dorm room at the clubhouse. He scaled the steps to find Aoife rinsing out their coffee mugs in the sink. He stepped behind her and rested his head on her shoulder while his arms encircled her waist. "Oh, my fair bonnie lass, I love this home we're creating."
"Your fair bonnie lass? You've been reading Robert Burns tonight. That's the only time that you call me that." He could hear the smile in her voice.
"How fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I; And I will love thee still, my dear, Till all the seas gang dry," Chibs quoted the Scots poet. "He must have loved someone as much as I love you. Now let's get you to bed." He released her with a kiss in her hair, just as his burner phone vibrated. "Oh, fuck me," he grumbled. "Aye?" he answered.
The prospect was breathless. "We need you at the clubhouse now. Bring your kit." Chibs' heart dropped into his stomach.
"Is it Clay? Tig?" he asked, but the line was already dead. "Shit!" Chibs slammed his hand down on the corner. "I gotta go, lass. They need a medic." He pressed a kiss to her lips and shoved his feet into his boots. "You hit the panic button Juice gave you if anything happens. Someone will come."
"Do you know who's hurt?" Aoife asked as she helped him into his cut.
"No, but Clay and Tig had a meeting with McKeavy tonight to pay for the shipment. Lock up behind me." He paused at the door and gave her one more kiss. She caught his cheek in her hand, and brushed a scar with her thumb.
"I'll be fine. You go take care of your brothers."