Hi everyone! Will likely be updating this story once a week. It'll be cross-posted to AO3 eventually as well! Thanks for reading!
It hadn't taken long for Tara and Mac to fall right back in to the easy friendship they'd had in college. They'd been in Charming for only a few weeks, and had already found happiness in learning to let loose once again, years of college memories flooding right back. Of course, this should also have prepared them for the way their night out ended.
It was innocent on their part, really. Mostly.
They'd gotten a little dressed up and gone to the next town over, to a bar that boasted cheap cocktails and good music. They'd gotten tipsy, danced, sang, and in all of it, did not see the four Sons walk through the door. Clay, Bobby, Tig, and Chibs.
Mac usually wasn't so careless, but her attention had been diverted by the absolute creep currently refusing to take his hands off of Tara.
The situation had escalated quickly. Some guy had been dancing with her friend on and off all night, and despite Tara's multiple rejections of "let's take this somewhere more private", seemed to not realize the answer was no. Mac, was standing by the bar, nursing a beer, when the guy grabbed Tara by the arm, and started to half-drag her out the back door.
Nu-uh buddy.
She put her beer down and followed them, quickly. Out of the corner of her eye, she finally noticed the four kuttes standing by the entrance to the bar. Mac cursed quietly at their timing, but continued after Tara.
She exited into the back alley jut in time to see the creep grab Tara around the waist, and so her first instinctual kick was aimed at the back of his knee. He yelled, but Tara, then freed just enough to turn, brought her knee up into his crotch. Hard.
The creep groaned, collapsing heavily onto the ground.
"Excuse me." Mac said. "Sorry to break up this little party, but I believe the lady's answer was no."
Tara snickered.
"Watch who you're calling a lady." she joked.
"Bitches." the man spat at them. Mac tilted her head, like a curious child.
She clicked her tongue.
"Can't have that." Tara murmured.
Mac dropped to one knee beside him, yanking him up by the front of his shirt, and punching him in the face.
He yelled again, subsiding to cursing and groaning, and Mac let him fall back down.
"Now, let me make something clear." she said. "If you put another hand on my friend, I'll kill you. If you put another hand on me, I'll kill you. If you put another hand on a woman who does not explicitly ask for it with words, I'll kill you. C'est clair?"
"She did ask for it." he mumbled, speaking around a mouthful of blood.
"Oh, vraiment?" she asked, toying with him. "How, may I ask? With words? Miming?"
Tara giggled.
"See, I don't think she did, and the way I know this is because she just kneed you in the balls. She'll do it again, too. So if you want to be able to have children some day - god save us all - I'd heed my warning and shut the fuck up."
Mac smirked.
"Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a lovely evening to return to. And maybe some men who aren't complete merde."
But before Mac could stand up, the man spat out a mouthful of blood, and snarled at her.
"Stupid French cunt."
He might've said more, but before he could, Mac reared up and socked him again. The crack of his jaw breaking echoed down the alley, and he passed out cold.
"He'd not dead, right?" Tara asked, pressing the toe of her shoe into his body.
"Mu'dak." Mac muttered, sighing.
"No, he's not dead. Just knocked out. Come on, let's get going. Better to let him wake up alone."
She stood, taking Tara's hand. They walked down the alley to freedom, only to be confronted by four large, glowering men, all patched members of the Sons of Anarchy.
—
Not a lot could surprise Chibs anymore, not after all he'd seen.
So when Clay rushed them out the door and into the alley, Chibs had mostly expected to beat the shit out of a guy with no boundaries, and to play Prince Charming for a couple of damsels in distress.
Thus his utter surprise as he watched the would-be damsels take the guy down with two well-placed hits, giggling. And then again, when the one with the accent beat the shit out of him. He couldn't help but grin at the insouciant way she spoke.
Quite a show.
She was clearly strong and well-trained. Her voice carried an accent he couldn't quite place, and a fair bit of steel that in her spine. From afar, Chibs had to admire her ass in the black jeans she wore, and the mane of crazy, dark curls that fell to the small of her back.
Clay motioned for their group to stay put - whoever she was, the woman clearly had the situation under control.
When she was done - the crack of his jaw made even Tig wince - the women grabbed hands and turned around, obviously surprised at the sight of the Sons. Chibs noted her bright, almost unnaturally green eyes, and a pretty face the she obviously tried to tone down, smattered with freckles.
Not one to be noticed, huh?
He looked her up and down, hands twitching, thinking of what it would feel like to slide them into her hair.
Bed hair. Chibs thought absentmindedly, before catching himself and blanking his features. The Sons waited for one of the women to speak.
—
"Clay Morrow?" Tara asked, surprised.
"Tara Knowles." Clay said, smiling slightly. "I should've known it was you."
Mac relaxed imperceptibly as Clay's glower was erased by his smile. He turned to her.
"Good to see you, Mackenzie." he greeted. "We've been expecting you to show up soon, though maybe in a less dramatic fashion."
Mac gave him a full grin.
"Not my fault." she said. "Just helping out our new friend, giving some free relationship advice. Maybe he'll apply it."
One of the Sons Mac didn't recognize let out a bark of laughter.
"He won' be applyin' anythin' for a while, no' with tha' jaw."
Hello, Scot.
Her eyes slid towards him, enjoying the burr in his voice. The man's sharp brown eyes met hers, and Mac squashed the wave of heat that settled in her stomach.
Uh-uh, Mackenzie. Not a Son. No way, no how.
So she made her glance a measuring one, giving him a tight grin and letting the moment pass.
She turned back to Clay. He and Bobby were the only two she recognized - the Scot and the man with blue psycho eyes were new.
"So, you'll be in Charming now?" Clay asked, and Mac nodded.
"Can you come by tomorrow morning, for church? I'll properly introduce you, and I think you have something for us as well."
Mac nodded again.
"For now, this is Chibs and Tig." Clay said, motioning to the Scot and the blue-eyed one in turn.
Chibs. Gotta be a nickname. No way his parents named him after a Scottish knife.
He was handsome, though. Tall, broad shouldered, a well-defined body. The tight, black, long-sleeved shirt over which he worse his kutte clung to the muscles in his arms and torso. Slightly wild, long-ish dark hair that put him firmly in Mac's type. His features were distinctly European, a handsome face made slightly sinister by the twin scars on his cheeks.
Mac recognized the Glasgow smile.
It shook her enough that she turned away again, reminding herself firmly that he was a Son.
The other one, the one called Tig, had turned his slightly maniacal eyes on her.
"Wanna come for a ride, darlin'?" he asked. Before Mac could respond, Clay elbowed him.
"They're not croweaters, Tiggy." Clay said, shaking his head.
"I'm Mackenzie." Mac said, giving the guys another nod. "And maybe another time, Tiggy, but… probably not."
Her grin was sharp, and Tig matched it.
"We should get going." Mac said. "I don't want to be here when he wakes up."
The guys nodded, leading the way to the parking lot. They split to their respective vehicles as Mac promised again to stop by the clubhouse the next morning.
—
Chibs straddled his bike, watching as Mac and Tara drove off.
Mac hadn't said much. Chibs vaguely remembered mention of Tara, as a woman from Jax's past, but this Mackenzie was new. He'd listened with half and ear as Clay greeted the women, more intent on watching her.
She was tall, maybe half a foot shorter than him. But there was something exotically familiar about her, like he should've known from which faraway place she was from. But nothing gave it away - not the dark, curly hair, not the green eyes, not the tan skin, not the accent.
Chibs tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear her joke about free relationship advice. He couldn't stop his laugh.
"He won' be applyin' anythin' for a while, no' with tha' jaw."
Her attention had switched to him. Those green eyes met his gaze, and Chibs thought he might've briefly seen a spark of interest - desire? - before it disappeared under her cool mask. He kept grinning, even as the moment passed.
He kept watching her, as Clay made their introductions. Watched as she took stock of him, of his appearance, not flinching once. Not at their kuttes, their obvious weapons, or the scars on his face. Unusual.
The heat he'd felt when she looked at him again was unusual as well.
"Wanna come fro a ride, darlin?" Tig had asked her, and Chibs could've socked him, only slightly mollified when Clay told Tig to back off, and Mac turned him down neatly.
He had plenty of questions still. Clay and Bobby seemed to know the woman, but how? Who was she, and what did she have for the club?
Unfortunately for his curiosity, his questions would have to wait until the next morning.