Another update! I used google translate for the French and Italian, so pardon any mistakes!

Enjoy :)

When Mac turned up a Teller-Morrow the next morning, she was met by Clay, Bobby, and a striking woman who was unmistakably Clay's wife, Gemma.

"Hey guys." Mac, as Bobby reached for a hug.

"Who could've guessed we'd meet again like we did last night?" Bobby asked, laughing.

Mac rolled her eyes. The woman she had pegged as Gemma stepped forward, holding out her hand.

"Gemma." she said. Mac shook.

"Mackenzie."

"My wife." Clay added, putting a hand on Gemma's lower back.

Mac got the immediate impression that Gemma considered herself a strong woman, but Mac was more than her equal. She met that appraising gaze solidly, almost arrogantly, and did not back down.

"So," Clay said, "it's almost time for church. You ready to tell your story?"

Mac broke Gemma's gaze and nodded, following Clay and Bobby into the clubhouse.

—

The clubhouse was exactly as the guys had described it. Sons paraphernalia everywhere, mug shots on one wall, a fully-stocked bar, a few croweaters wandering around. There was a blond guy with a prospect kutte doing some cleaning.

She followed the guys into their chapel, eyes going immediately to the hardwood table that filled the room, their reaper carved in the center. Sons sat scattered around the table, and Bobby and Clay joined them.

Mac leaned up against the back wall, one booted foot lifted to be flat against it.

"Let's start with introductions." Clay said. "You know me and Bobby, and you met Chibs and Tig last night. That's Opie and his old man Piney, and that's Juice."

Opie was a big bear of a man, and Piney was well older, hooked up to an oxygen machine. Juice was the only one who managed to smile at her, and Mac's lips twitched in return.

"This is Mackenzie Adrien." Clay said. "She took care of our problem up in Washington."

The table relaxed slightly.

"So, Mac, this is your story."

"You know," Mac began, "I didn't understand, at first, how the Niners, the Mayans, and the Sons could agree to anything. I gotta say, though, after meeting your target, I get it."

Clay chuckled.

"He went down without a problem." Mac continued. "He figured out you'd sent me pretty fast, and promises revenge, doom, et cetera. I wouldn't worry too much about it; they all say that."

"They all do, do they?" Tig asked, clearly in disbelief. Mac's eyes narrowed slightly.

"In the end," she replied, choosing her words carefully, "you lot are all the same. Making promises you can't keep."

She sighed dramatically.

"Though I suppose that's par for the course with men. Leaving us girls to take drastic measures."

Innuendo seeped into Mac's voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chibs shift in his chair. She grinned internally.

Tig broke out in a smile that would've had a lesser woman backing away, but Mac wasn't phased.

"It's real unfortunate you haven't met a man who keeps his promises. Maybe I can help." Tig leered at her, and Mac looked arrogantly back.

"Promises, promises, mate." Mac turned back to Clay, dismissing Tig entirely.

"You already know the gist of why I'm here." she said. "Tara's an old friend, and Charming is as good a place as any to settle down for a while. But, you're here. So I think you deserve fair warning."

Mac continued carefully.

"I was… a soldier, I guess. Not quite. The job I did for you - that's been my life for a long time now. That kind of life… you gain enemies. Enemies that won't easily forget you. When they find me - and they will find me - they'll target everyone I'm close to. These people hate me, Clay. Irrationally. Passionately. I just thought you should know, since there's a chance they'll find me here."

Clay nodded. The rest of the table looked thoughtful.

A fuckin' enforcer! Chibs thought, blown away. He never would've guessed, just looking at her, or even speaking to her, really. She seemed too… alive, almost. Vibrant. Mac was obviously hiding her emotions, but where her mask was coldly visible, Happy's just appeared emotionless.

"What's your cover?" Clay asked.

Mac shrugged.

"I have a college degree." she replied. "They were happy enough to hire me at the library, though I doubt I'll stay for too long. They needed someone who knew a few different languages to come in and do some work. But I'll be doing contract work as well, and if you guys even need… help… well, look, if I bring enemies to your doorstep, you can bet that I'll take care of them."

She sighed.

"You guys don't exactly fly under the radar here." Mac said. "My gut says that if they show us, they'll try to involve the Sons."

There was silence for a few moments, until Tig spoke again.

"I don't understand." he said. "Who the fuck are you? And what kinda last name is Adrian?"

Mac pursed her lips.

"It's Aa-dree-ehn." she said, emphasizing her French accent.

"She's a friend of the club, Tig." Clay said. "She did us a favor in Washington, and a good job at that. I have no problem with her stay here. We can handle a little more trouble than usual. I propose we formally welcome her to Charming. We can treat you… erm… side job as club business, when necessary."

He finished with a wry laugh, and Mac hid her surprise, knowing Clay's offer was a generous one.

Clay looked around the table.

"Any objections?"

"Yeah!" Tig and Opie said, simultaneously.

"Just who are you?" asked Opie.

"It's complicated." Mac replied. "I'm technically ex-government, though no one you know will confirm it. I left, took up contract work, and now I'm looking to stop moving for a while. I met Bobby and Clay through this job, heard that Tara was planning on making a move here, and decided to join her. We're moving into her place. The rest… is personal."

Mac was firm, and Opie gazed at her cooly.

"How many languages do you speak?" Juice asked eagerly, far more warm than Opie had been.

"Fluently?" Mac asked, sighing. Juice nodded.

"All the romance languages, Russian, German, Irish, a few others." she said, ticking them off on her fingers. "Less fluently, Mandarin, Afrikaans, Greek - I'm sure I'm forgetting some."

She grinned.

"Tara and I did try to learn something in school." she said. "When we weren't starting bar fights, of course. Plus, every now and then a job would require something new. You learn or you die."

Juice shut his open mouth with a snap.

There was a long silence while Mac checked out her fingernails.

Bobby laughed first, and slowly, the rest of the table joined in.

"No objections." Opie said, grinning.

Tig nodded, banged the gavel, and the meeting broke up. Juice stood, making a beeline for her, but Chibs passed her first.

Mac met his gaze just as she had met Gemma's earlier. His lips twitched.

"Welcome to the family, luv'." he said, and left the room.

Mac couldn't stop her small smile.

—

A week or so later found Mac just finishing up a long morning run. She was stretching on the front steps of Tara's house when she heard the rumbles of motorcycles in the distance.

It had been a busy enough week. The house had needed some work, and Mac was putting in her own upgrades - weapons safes, her burners and computer systems for contract work, organizing the garage to fit their vehicles, and just general maintenance. But the Sons had remained in the back of her mind the entire time.

Every now and then, Mac would catch herself thinking of Chibs, against her will. Dark hair, dark eyes, wicked smirk. Dimples only highlight by those dangerous scars. She would always grin, before remembering that she was firmly not interested.

And she would force her mind away.

It was no different now, as the noise from their Harley's echoed through Charming's quiet streets.

There was simply no room in her life for the Scot, not that that would stop her mind from going where it wanted.

And, well… best not to think of that.

Shaking off the demons, Mac stood and made her way into the house.

—

The clubhouse was packed, loud rock music shaking the picture frames on the walls. It pounded under Mac's feet as she and Tara climbed the clubhouse's front steps.

The smoke hit them like a wall when they walked in the front door. Mac, who had laughed when Tara had said they looked like biker chicks, was grateful to find that they were dressed conservatively, at least in comparison to the croweaters.

It was the prospect that spotted them first.

"Hey guys!" he yelled drunkenly. Mac and Tara grinned.

"Hey Sack." Mac said. "What've you gotten yourself into already, mate?"

"S' a lil bitofa drinkin game with Tiggy." he said, slurring badly. "Ya wanna drink?"

Mac and Tara looked at each other.

"Shall we show them how to party?" Tara asked. Mac simply motioned to her friend to lead the way.

With Half-Sack acting as bartender, they took a few rounds of shots before settling on beer. Tig wandered over, watching them drink with wide eyes.

"Slow down, girls!" he called. "We don't wanna be pouring you into bed tonight."

He winked with obvious intention, but Tara and Mac just grinned at him.

"We learned to hold our liquor the hard way, Tig, but thanks for the concern." Mac said.

Tara laughed.

"Actually, if you get Mac drunk enough, she mugh just show you the proper way to do a keg stand." Tara said.

"Support is cheating." Mac agreed.

They laughed, and when Tig didn't respond, Mac looked over at him. His mouth was open just slightly, like he was trying to picture what she'd just said.

"I rather like you silent and impressed, Tig." she said, to general amusement.

Eventually, Mac lost Tara to the dancing crowd. Instead of following, she tucked herself into a corner of the bar with a beer to nurse and people to watch.

The stripper pole, surrounded by couches, was currently occupied by one of the croweaters, and the couches filled with attentive audience. The pool table was hosting a battle between Opie and Piney, who were good-naturedly teasing each other as they got progressively drunker, and took progressively worse shots. The rest of the part was dancing or sitting around tables or on couches, leaving Mac alone at the bar.

She liked it this way. She liked to observe, to catalog interactions, to understand people and learn the intricacies of their relationships. It had saved her ass more than once.

Plus, it distracted her from the fact that Chibs was staring at her.

It began as a low heat on her back, and at first, Mac had though the alcohol had hit her harder than she'd expected. But then, when she'd turned, the heat had traveled to her front. She had followed it, and found Chibs at the other end.

It wasn't a polite glance, either. It was a full-on, sharp-eyed, burning stare. It did not waver, no matter who called for his attention, which croweater was on his lap, or what noise erupted around him.

I wonder what his real name is. Mac thought, sipping her beer and pointedly ignoring his gaze. She continued her perusal of the room, trading a few words with anyone who came to grab another drink. Eventually, her vigil was interrupted when someone placed a glass of brown liquor in front of her.

"Whisky?" asked the man attached to the glass. "I'm Dante."

Mac took a sip of the offering, deeming it not bad fare for a biker clubhouse. She tilted her head to the seat next to her.

"Mackenzie." she said. "Pleased to meet you."

"You as well." said Dante, who had a slight accent. Mac furrowed her brow.

"Keep talking." she said. "I'm trying to place your accent."

Dante chuckled.

"I speak the language, too." he said. "My father was an immigrant. He met my mother here in the states. I'm not officially part of the club, just a friend. I work with their lawyers. So, where is my father from?"

Mac smiled.

"Sono nato in America." she replied. "Ho appena trascorso molto tempo all'estero. Il mio accento è probabilmente un misto. Da dove veniva tuo padre in Italia?"

(I was born in America. I have just spent a significant amount of time overseas. My accent is probably a mix. Where in Italy was your father from?)

Dante gave her a huge smile.

"Molto buona!" he said, obviously excited. "Era di Gioia Tauro. È una grande città marittima, ma non ha mai avuto molta fortuna per lui."

(Very good! He was from Gioia Tauro. It is a large shipping town, but it never held much fortune for him.)

"Bella." Mac replied. "Ora qualche ipotesi sulla mia?"

(Lovely. Now, any guesses on mine?)

Dante shrugged.

"Hai ragione, suona come un mix." he replied.

(You're right, it sounds like a mix.)

Mac nodded.

"Là dentro ci sono degli inglesi e dei francesi. Probabilmente anche in altri posti."

(There's some British and French in there. Probably a few other places as well.)

He nodded.

"Quindi hai viaggiato molto."

(So you're well-traveled.)

They talked for a while about the various places they'd visited. Dante was handsome, and obviously interested, but Mac knew how to play off a man.

And with every second that passed, the heat from Chibs' gaze grew more and more intense. Mac guess that he was about a minute away from storming up to them and interrupting.

She didn't know where it came from, the intense way that he was looking at her, or the ease with which she could generate the same heat as well. They barely knew each other. They'd traded at most ten words. He didn't know her, and she didn't know him.

And all of that logic simply evaporated in the heat of his gaze.

Mac was almost right on the money - Chibs lasted about a minute-and-a-half. She watched Dante's face change, and knew that he was watching Chibs' approach over her shoulder. Chibs tried his best to make it look casual. Mac might've been the only person to see through the lie.

Whoever Dante was to the club, Chibs clearly held sway. It took all of one look from him for Dante to stand, squeeze her hand, and walk away.

Chibs took the lawyer's seat, grabbing the whisky bottle to refill Mac's glass and to pour one for himself.

"Well." he said, drinking deeply. "Mackenzie. Aah-dree-ehn."

He pronounced her last name just as she had. Mac decided she liked what his accent did to her name.

She met his gaze.

"Chibs." she deadpanned, smirking when his lips twitched.

"What's your real name?" she asked. Chibs immediately look offended.

"An' why is it ya think Chibs isn' ma real name?" he asked. Mac rolled her eyes.

"Because I know what a Chib is." she said.

"Well, I don' give tha' information away ta anyone, lass." he said. "I guess you'll just hav' ta get ta know me better, then ya can ask again."

Mac rolled her eyes again, looking away.

"I can't imagine why you'd think I'd care enough to do that." she said. His gaze burned into the side of her face.

"I'll make ya a deal, darlin'." he said. "Ya give me one kiss, and I'll tell ya."

"That might've worked," she replied, pretending to consider, "but again, why would I care enough to do that?"

"Because it's no' about my name." Chibs all but growled in her ear. "It's about figurin' out if this crazy chemistry I feel is real. Come on now, lass, I know ya feel it too. Wanna prove it?"

Mac downed her drink, dropped the mask that hid her emotions, and turned to look Chibs full in the face. She put all the lust, the desire, the strange electricity she felt into her gaze, made it as obvious as possible.

"I don't need to prove it, Chibs." she practically purred.

He sucked in a breath, and the growled quietly. Mac kept his gaze until she saw his pupils blow wide, hand squeezing his glass dangerously hard.

"That's right." she said. "I already know."

And then she slammed her glass on the counter, stood, and walked away.

—

Eventually, a croweater had come to collect Chibs from the bar. The girl could've been leading him to his death for all he cared to notice right them. More likely, it was just back to the couch.

Her fuckin' eyes.

It was all he could think about. How he'd watched her talk and flirt - in Italian, no less! - to one of their slick lawyer. How he'd stared.

To be fair, he'd been staring since she'd walked in, in jeans that left far too little to his imagination, and with that fucking hair. But the flirting had been a step to far. He'd brushed away whoever had been sitting on him, scared the lawyer away with a glance, and sat down.

And she hadn't given him one inch.

Chibs supposed it was possible that he'd been spoiled by the croweaters, but Mackenzie did not give him one shred of evidence that he was right, that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Not until he'd allowed himself to be baited, of course.

The look in her eyes, when she'd finally let him see the honest truth, what she was really feeling - it had been all he wanted and more. But it had hit him like a punch to the gut. He was frozen in the gaze, couldn't move, not even when she broke it and walked away.

As the croweater settled him on the couch, Chibs made sure to grab a beer to cover his hard-on. No sense in the girls getting the wrong idea.

They wouldn't be enough for him tonight.

—

Mac had wandered over to the wall of mug shots, a victorious little smile playing over her face. Maybe it was the liquor, maybe it was simply the strength of their connection… but for all that she refused to get involved with a Son, she simply could not help it.

There were mug shots of almost everyone on the wall, from various ages. Mac was admiring one of Chibs' when she felt a presence at her left shoulder.

She turned, eyeing the scariest-looking of the Sons, one she didn't know by name. She said nothing, just stared at him, waiting for him to speak.

He appeared to be sizing her up. Eventually, he spoke.

"Happy." he said, looking anything but. At Mac's blank face, he smiled around the toothpick in his mouth, though it was more like he was baring his teeth.

"That's what you can call me." he clarified, and Mac smirked.

"I'm Mac." she said, nodding.

They stood silently for a while, looking at the wall of mug shots.

"I get smiley tattoos." he said, and this time, Mac didn't bother to hide her look of confusion.

Happy lifted up his shirt, showing off a path of smiley faces among the many tattoos covering his torso.

"When I kill someone." he said plainly.

Mac let her face go blank. Happy - whoever he was - had not been in church when she'd introduced herself. Even if he was a patched member, it made her spine a bit stiffer. When Clay had said club secret, he'd apparently meant club secret.

She sighed, turning away from him slightly, wondering why the club had reached out to her for their job, when they clearly already had an enforcer of their own.

"I have two." she said eventually. "Two times that I just… couldn't forget."

Happy didn't reply.

"How'd you know?" Mac asked.

There was every chance that Clay - or anyone else - might've told him. But Happy regarded her carefully, and instead said "There's no one else where who it could be."

Mac nodded. It was true; in this room, she stood out.

"Plus, you're carrying two guns and a knife." he continued. "Even here, with the protection of the Sons."

Mac nodded again. "Why did Clay give the job to you?" she asked.

Happy shrugged.

"Your face isn't known." he replied. "Sometimes, anonymity is necessary."

It was a strange moment for Mac. It had been a while since she'd spoken to someone she could reasonably consider a colleague.

"It's a tough job." Happy said. "You have to find the joy in it."

Mac grimaced. It was a macabre statement, though she mostly understood. Happy shrugged.

"Clay told me what you said about enemies." he said. "Just so you know, someone else here gets it. And there are friends here, if you want to find them."

Mac sighed.

"Friends?" she all but whispered. "I can't bring the wolves at my back to the sheep in front of me. Et ils me trouveront n'importe où."

(And they will find me anywhere)

Happy, to Mac's great surprise, chuckled.

"Sheep." he said, shaking his head. He brushed her hand with him, and melted back into the party, still chuckling.

Mac sighed, despite the smile playing on her own face.

What am I honestly doing here? Do I have any right to bring the horrors of my past down on these people? Could any good I do here really outweigh all the bad that I've done… and will do?

Her train of though was interrupted by the arrival of Tig.

"I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen Happy laugh." he said. "What'd you do?"

Mac just grinned at him.

"I can make good on my promise, ya know." Tig said, referencing their earlier conversation from church, and angling right up into her personal space.

"We have rooms here."

Mac had known that this would happen eventually. It didn't take a genius to see that Tig came on to everything with tits, and Mac probably stood out as a bigger prize than what Tig normally went after.

"Sorry mate." she replied, smirking. "But I'm not here to make those sorts of friends."

"Are ya sure?" Tig asked. "Because I'm not the only one lookin' at you like this."

His head tilted towards where Chibs sat on a couch, once gain bookended by croweaters.

That's not true, though.

"You sure aren't looking at me like he's looking at me, Tig." she murmured.

Somehow, Tig took that as an invitation.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I can still take some of the edge off…"

He trailed off, pushing his body against hers… and came to a sudden stop when he felt the sharp metal of the switchblade pressed against his crotch.

"One wrong move, Tiggy, and I'll take those drastic measures I talked about." she growled. Tig back off quickly.

"Sorry, sorry." He held up his hands in a gesture of innocence.

Mac shook her head. Against her better judgement, she actually wanted to like Tig, skeevy and lascivious as he was.

"Just making a point." she said, slipping the blade away. "Like I said, I'm not here to make those types of friends."

"Now that," Tig said, "I don't believe. Plus, that doesn't mean it can't find you, girlie."

—

Chibs hadn't stopped watching Mac since she'd left him at the bar.

Their conversation, such as it had been, had inflamed previously latent curiosity. Of course, the desire was there, as it had been from the beginning. But there was something else, something intriguing about here that kept him staring.

He was most disturbed by the fact that he thought she was pretty. Pretty.

Chibs hadn't thought a girl was pretty since Fiona, and that disturbed him.

What he really wanted to do was take Mac back to his dorm room and fuck her into the mattress. Unfortunately, the brain in his larger head won out.

This also disturbed him.

Chibs shook his head, trying to focus back on the conversation that flowed around him. But he never took his gae off her for too long. There was no way Mac was leaving without talking to him again.

So he watched carefully, a croweater on either side, as Mac wandered around the room.

He watched, with complete shock, as she made Happy laugh. Happy was a hard man to read at the best of times, but to make him laugh was astounding. But there was definitely some similarity between Happy and Mac that Chibs couldn't pinpoint.

Then there was Tig, whom Chibs should've known would try something. Chibs had found himself ready to stand, ready to throw the other man across the room. Instead, he'd gotten to watch and laugh to himself when Mac threatened to cut off Tig's most prized possession.

Eventually, Mac had gone to find Tara. While Mac had continued to wander, Tara had continued to drink. Mac decided it was time to leave just as Tara took one too many shots. They said their goodbyes as she tried to lead her friend towards the door.

Not so fast.

Chibs pushed the croweaters away and stood up. He took his opportunity when Mac pushed Tara down into a chair, and said something to the prospect about a bottle of water.

With Tara safely seated, Chibs walked over to Mac, invading her personal space and backing her up into a wall. He did not touch her, not at all.

His skin prickled all over, goosebumps erupting simply from the proximity. His dick twitched in his pants, even as he did his very best to restrain himself.

Christ, and I haven' even touched her yet.

"Chibs." Mac said quietly, meeting his gaze.

"Mackenzie." he rumbled. She swallowed hard.

The current - or whatever it was between them - roiled, pulling him closer until hed braced an arm on either side of Mac's head, forcing her to look up at him. She smelled like something spicy, citrus-y, and a flower Chibs identified as jasmine. He found himself breathing in deeply as she reached up, and without permission, brushed the very tips of her fingers over his scars.

His cheeks burned where here fingers touched.

"Glasgow smile." Mac practically whispered. Chibs wanted to jump out of his skin, to drag her far, far away and not let go until the sun rose. Not even then, maybe.

"Sometimes I forge' tha're there." he murmured, and he could heard how thick his accent had gotten. Mac stayed silent, allowing the heat to pull him closer and closer, until…

"Kenzie!" Tara yelled drunkenly.

Chibs jumped backwards, still incredibly heated. Mac's eyes burned with a similar fire, but there was nothing Chibs could do. She had Tara bundled out of the clubhouse and into the car before he could even say goodnight.

Motherfuckin' hell.

He swiped a hand over his face, and headed towards the bar.

I'm gonnae need liquor to sleep tonight.

—

Mac's face was still burning, even as she strapped Tara in and walked around to the driver's side.

Chibs had just… come on to her. Just walked up and invaded her space so fast, so easily, that she hadn't stopped walking backwards until she'd hit the wall. He'd made her warm all over, smelling of tobacco, leather, gasoline, whisky, and something sharper that was him and him alone. Mac had found herself reaching up, almost without realizing it, and had brushed her fingers over his scars.

There were a million things she wanted to say to him, and a million more she wanted to do, but all Mac could do was stand there, willing the heat to pull him closer and closer, until Tara's yell had broken their little bubble, and Mac had rushed off.

What am I doing? This is isn't what I'm here for! I can't. He'd be in danger - the club would be in danger! Peter would have more leverage, and besides, he's a fucking Son! Anyways, he'll never want anything to do with me after he finds out what happened.

Stupid, Mac. Stupid.

Gemma's hand on Mac's shoulder stopped her from sliding into the car.

"How ya doin', sweetie?" she asked. "I saw ya leavin'. You and Chibs just about burned the place down in there - I figured we wouldn't see ya leave without doin' somethin' about it."

Mac sighed, smirking a bit to herself. She supposed Chibs had been rather obvious.

"I was nothing, Gemma."

Gemma shook her head.

"Bullshit. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Mac shrugged. "It's just not a good time."

"Yeah, well, it never is, hun. And it wasn't nothing."

Gemma smirked slightly, and Mac just shrugged again, turning away.

"Anyways, I came out to ask you to join us for family dinner. Sunday, at our house."

Mac paused, unsure of what to make of the offer. She couldn't really say no, not without offending Gemma. Plus, maybe this was what was expected of a friend of the club.

But the danger she might be putting these people in…

"Come and eat and enjoy some family time." Gemma pushed.

Mac leveled her gaze. Gemma was Clay's old lady. Mac was sure Clay shared everything - or almost everything - with her. And that likely included Mac's past.

"We don't scare easy, sweetie, and I don't think you do either." Gemma said.

Mac have a small nod. Maybe Gemma was right. The important people here knew who she was, and knew what she came with.

Maybe it was time to try and find a family.