The next morning, Mac had only just sat down on the front porch with her coffee when Chibs' bike rolled around the corner. Tara was still fast asleep, sleeping of the excesses of the night before.

Chibs had decided, after a long sleepless night, that they needed to clear the air. For him, that meant continue what they started. For Mac, well, Chibs wasn't sure.

"Mornin', darlin'." he said, making his way up her front steps. Mac moved behind the little table, purposefully putting physical room between them.

"Hey Chibs." she said, motioning for him to sit. "What's up?

He regarded her with those sharp brown eyes, tinged with amusement. She did her level best to keep her emotionless mask firmly in place, but it was difficult. The man just saw right through her.

"Wanted ta talk about las' night." he finally said, and Mac sighed.

I should've guessed.

"What about it?" she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. Chibs' eyes narrowed.

As if she doesn'a remember.

"Come now, lass, donnae pretend like ya didn't wan' me to grab ya and have my way with - "

Mac held up a hand to cut him off, his grin large. She matched it, almost leering at him.

"I can't argue with that." she replied. "I don't know what this is, this weird electricity between us, like if we ever hooked up, the sheets would spontaneously combust."

His grin grew.

Mac stopped smiling.

"But the sex isn't my problem." she said. "I didn't come here to make those kinds of friends, Chibs."

When his grin didn't fade, she shook her head.

"Stop grinning." Mac said. "I don't mind the flirting, really. And I appreciate that you - and everyone else - has been so welcoming. But I can't let anyone too far into my personal life. When my past catches up to me - and it will - anyone that close to me will undoubtedly get caught in the crossfire. And I won't let that happen."

By the last sentence, her face had gone back to that emotionless mask.

Chibs eyed her.

Where did you learn to do that, lass?

Where had she learned to hide herself so very, very well? And just what had happen to inspire such fear in her?

Chibs considered his options. He knew he wouldn't convince her of anything immediately. No, what he needed, was time.

So when Mac stuck out her hand and said "Friends?" Chibs shook it.

I will figure you out, lass.

As much as she tried to downplay it, this feeling between them wasn't just electricity or desire or lust, and Chibs would be damned if he didn't get to figure out what else might be there.

"Friends i'is then, darlin'." he said, sitting back.

Friends, my pale Scottish arse.

As far as Chibs was concerned, this was only a stepping stone to what they could really be. Hopefully, it wouldn't take him more than a few weeks to convince Mackenzie.

She favored him with a true smile, then, and he was all but blinded. It wasn't a smirk or a grin or a leer, but a full-on smile. Immediately, Chibs vowed to himself to make her smile like that as often as he could.

Mac, on the other hand, wasn't sure why Chibs had agreed so easily to being just friends. It was likely in the back of whatever real plans he had, but she was a big girl, and she could defend herself against the handsome biker… and her own traitorous heart.

What did it mean that she was almost disappointed that he hadn't put up more of a fight?

She shook her head, brushing the thoughts away, and went to grab Chibs his own coffee. They talked for a long while about things of no consequence. Avoiding, by some unspoken agreement, their pasts.

The ease with which they past the time only confirmed Chibs' convication to get past the walls of the contradiction sitting across from him. A contract killer who cared about the lives of a group of bikes. A woman with an obviously dark past and possibly a deadly future, who was here, living comfortably with her best friend.

She was more than worth the trouble. Now, Chibs just needed a way in.

—

They didn't see each other again until family dinner. Sunday afternoon found Mac at Gemma's house, summoned early to help with the cooking. Tara, who was working, couldn't attend.

An unfamiliar blonde woman answered Mac's knock. She stuck her hand out immediately.

"Hi sweetie." she said. "I'm Luann Delaney, Otto's old lady. Gem said we were expecting you."

"Mackenzie." Mac said, shaking the woman's hand. Luann motioned Mac inside, and she allowed herself to be herded into the kitchen, plied with wine, and put to work. Mac wasn't much of a cook, so she set to chopping vegetables.

She did know how to use knives, after all.

Besides Gemma and Luann, there were a few croweaters around. She didn't have anything against the other women - most of whom were porn stars working with Luann. Who was Mac to tell anyone else how to make money, considering what she did for a living?

Soon, the kitchen was alive with conversation, and Mac was surprised to find herself participating, even enjoying herself.

Eventually, the house filled up with guests. Mac met Donna, Opie's wife, and almost immediately noticed the palpable tension between her and the rest of the club. Despite that, she took an instant liking to the woman and her kids.

The guys showed up in twos and three - Juice looking like he'd just been in a fight.

"Fuckin' street thugs." Mac heard Bobby mutter to Clay.

Gemma just smiled gamely and took Juice into the kitchen for some quick first aid.

Chibs showed up last, announcing himself with his distinctive brogue. He found Mac in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water. She was aware of his approach, somehow instinctively connected to the man the minute he stepped foot in the house. He brushed a few fingers across the small of her back, and her heart rate skyrocketed.

It was only her training that stopped her from spilling water everywhere.

"Evenin', Mackenzie." he said, passing by her and reaching into the fridge for a beer. Mac just nodded, meeting his eye.

Chibs grinned. She could try to hide it, but he'd felt the heat in that simple touch as well.

Before either could say another else, several other Sons trooped into the kitchen, allowing Mac her escape.

But even as she left, she could feel his gaze watching her go.

—

By dinner time, the house was packed. It was warm and loud and strangely friendly. Mac, not entirely in her element, felt somewhat off balance. Gemma walked up to her side, smiling.

"Enjoying youself?" she asked. Mac nodded.

"Good. Let's get this party started."

Mac stayed by Gemma as the queen called for dinner, and allowed herself to be seated next to Tig, which she almost immediately regretted.

"Mackie!" he called, patting the seat next to him. Neither Tig nor Gemma missed the glare that Chibs leveled at his brother.

Mac, unnoticed by all but Chibs, went slightly rigid at the nickname.

She forced herself to groan good-naturedly.

"If you call me that again, Tiggy, I will hae to take those drastic measures we talked about." she said.

Mac took her seat carefully. She'd managed to suppress the shiver inspired by the memories attached to that particular nickname. No one had called her that in years now.

"Tiggy, why is it you want a blade pressed to your junk?" Bobby asked. "Is it some new fetish?"

Tig blanched. Clearly, the tale of Mac's switchblade had spread. Mac fingered the steak knife beside her plate, catching the light. Tig shifted slightly away from her, and the table broke out in sniggers.

"Finally, a woman who scares Tig." Bobby said.

Mac smirked.

—

An hour or so later, Mac sat back, full to bursting.

Family dinner, as it turned out, wasn't the worst experience. Around her, people argued, caught up on each other's lives, or just chatted mindlessly. When the food was gone, the guys took the dishes into the kitchen, shooing the kids off to play, supervised by croweaters. Mac found herself sitting, surrounded by the Sons and their old ladies, cigar smoke filling the air.

"So, what'd you think?" Gemma asked her.

Mac smiled.

"You have a wonderful family, Gemma." she said. "Thank you for inviting me. I'm very grateful for the lack of judgement here."

Gemma made an agreeable noise in her throat as someone set a tumbler of something brown in front of Mac.

She looked up to see Chibs.

"Jameson okay, luv'?" he asked. Mac nodded, giving him a smile.

Chibs returned it with a wink, lightly brushing her cheek when he pulled his hand back. Mac felt her cheek break out in tingles, and she looked firmly away and didn't watch him as he walked around the table to sit down.

Her decisions surrounded Chibs weren't making him any easier to ignore. It had been a fight not to simply watch him all throughout dinner. An now, he sat across from her, staring at her from over his beer, not even trying to be subtle.

Mac did her best to ignore him.

She lazed next to Gemma while the guys played poker, fighting weariness borne of too much food. The drinking and the smoking had deepened Chibs' accent, and Mac felt it roll through her, tricking her into drifting off one or twice, before she fell too far…

—

"…can't escape." Peter was saying. She was held in a chair by his hands at her wrists. He stood in front of her, leaning into her face.

"It's done now, and they'll know it was you. You broke your own rules, and for me!" Peter said, viciously and almost gleefully. "Don't forget that."

Mac twisted her head around, trying to avoid the smell of his breath and the twisted words on it.

"No one will want you now, when they find out about this. You're mine now. There's no escape, Mackie."

Mac bared her teeth in a scowl, continuing to twist, trying to escape Peter's grasp…

Mac came to her senses. Her eyes snapped open, heart pounding. She hadn't been under for more than a minute, and it seemed like - thankfully - no one had noticed.

Except for Chibs, still watching her carefully.

Mac avoided the Scot's eyes and stood, slightly too fast. She did her best to play it off.

"I think it's time for me to head out." she said, giving Gemma a hug. "Thanks for a lovely evening, Gemma, Clay."

The President nodded at her.

Mac gave the room one last glance before turning and leaving. She'd played it off well - no one had noticed something was wrong except for Happy and Chibs.

Chibs shifted in his chair, wondering if he should follow her out, but was stopped by Happy's nudge.

"Don't." Happy said quietly.

Chibs nodded, deferring to Happy's experience. The killer beside him took a long drag on his cigar, and Chibs added yet another layer to the web of curiosity that surrounded Mackenzie."

—

Mac got herself out of the house as quickly as possible, and had promptly taken refuge in her truck. She was keyed up, and didn't really want to go home to stew over what had just happened.

Instead, she hoisted herself up onto the cab of her truck, and laid down. The metal was cool against her back, and she was parked far enough from the driveway that she'd be well hidden from other departing guests.

She could still hear Peter saying Mackie, Mackie, Mackie - over and over again. Peter followed her around, like a talented stalker that she couldn't shake. Even still, she could normally go days without thinking of him. It was Tig's use of that cursed nickname that had set her off.

Mac found herself taking deep breaths, reminding herself that she was in a small town in the middle of nowhere, and Peter probably had no idea where she was. But she wasn't stupid. Peter could - and would - find her. Sometimes, Mac even thought she wanted him to. Just to give herself a chance to finish him.

She wanted him gone.

But if he found her, she would no longer be the only one in danger. It wasn't so much the Sons that she was truly concerned about - they could handle themselves. Peter was an evil person, but he couldn't comprehend the type of bond the Sons had with one another. If he chose to go after them, that would be Peter's downfall.

But a personal relationship, like Chibs wanted? Too complicated. Too risky. If Peter thought using another person would hurt Mac, he wouldn't hesitate to exploite that. And Chibs, for all his swagger, was just one man.

And Peter knew things about her that no one else did. Things that would make Chibs run for the fucking hills.

Mac laid there for a long time, listened as people left around her. When it had been silent for a while, and when her heart rate had returned to normal, she got down from the cab, and drove home.

She didn't see Chibs sitting on his bike just down the street, watching her intently.

—

Mac woke to the smell of pancakes.

She followed her nose to the kitchen, where Tara stood guard over the stove, and what appeared to be breakfast.

"You, my friend, are the best roommate ever." Mac declared, sitting down with coffee.

Tara grinned.

"Consider it repayment for gtting me safely home." she said. "I had a good time at that party."

Mac grinned back.

"That," she said, "I know."

Tara paused.

"I heard you and Chibs cause a bit of a disturbance." she said.

Mac rolled her eyes.

"It was nothing." she said. "Small loss of sanity."

Tara just laughed.

"I can admit that we have this weird… pull towards one another." Mac continued. "But it just is not a good idea."

Tara shrugged. Mac watched her friend move around the kitchen, realizing that Tara had something on her mind, and was working up the courage to talk about it.

"What do you think of Jax?" Tara asked finally.

Mac studied her best friend carefully. Tara had told Mac enough about Jax that Mac honestly felt like she knew the Son before meeting him herself. It was risky, Tara putting herself right back in the same town she'd run from. And Mac had the sneaking suspicion that their relationship wasn't as over as they both claimed.

She shrugged.

"Smart, funny, built." Mac leered at her. "Your type."

Tara blushed.

"And also the reason you left here in the first place." Mac finished.

"I know." Tara admitted. "I didn't tell him I was coming back, you know. He was as surprised as anyone when Clay mentioned that he'd seen me with you that night at the club. I'm told he's narried now, not that that stopped him Friday night."

That was sadness in Tara's voice.

"Well, I didn't see any old ladies with him at family dinner." Mac said. "And I'm sure Gemma would've introduced me to her son's wife."

Tara shook her head.

"It doesn't matter." she said. "I didn't come back for him."

Mac was silent. She knew Tara was telling herself half the truth, but it was similarly clear that her friend wasn't ready to be pressed on that. She wasn't going to interfere, not yet.

She'd let them try and figure it out first.

—

Clay smacked his hand on the table.

"We gotta do somethin' about them!" he said loudly. The rest of the Redwood chapter sat around their table, listening to Clay rant about the Mayans.

"They're scrapping with friends up north, in Oregon and Washington. I'm sick of dealing with them. If this keeps up, they could hit something more vital. I want to send a message!"

There were nods around the table.

"It can't kick back on us." Opie warned.

Clay sighed.

"I know." he said. "But I want the message signed by us. They have too many enemies to depend on just a guess."

"What are you thinking?" Jax asked, eyes narrowed.

"That we ask our new friend for some help." Clay said.

Chibs shifted. He knew, intellectually, that this was Mac's job. But that didn't mean he had to like the club using her for their dirty work.

"What's the ask?" asked Jax.

"She wears a TM shift." Clay said. "It's not confirmation that it's us, but it's a pretty big red flag for the Mayans. She's alone, she's quiet. She causes some mayhem, and gets the hell out. No harm to her."

"She's just a girl." Piney said.

"She's a very talented girl, old man." Clay said. "She'll be fine."

The table was quiet for a few minutes.

"She'll hide her face." Clay continued. "She'll wear our colors, but hide her face. They won't ID her. It'll be our message sent. I'm not sure any of us are fast enough to get this done, otherwise. Do I have to take a vote?"

The table was silent, and Chibs held his tongue.

Clay's gavel hit the table.

"Tig and I will go give her good news." Clay said, and the Sons filed out of church.