Mac knew she was having visitors when the rumble of their bikes reached her.
Sighing, she turned off the burner on the stove and checked out the window. Tig and Clay had appeared in her driveway. She covered the noodles that had been dinner, grabbed three beers, and went to greet them.
"Hey boys." she said, motioning for them to sit around the small table on the porch. "What can I do for you?"
"We need to ask you a favor." Clay said, taking a deep slug.
Mac nodded.
"What's the job?"
Clay leaned back.
"We have some friends that need a boot up the ass is all, but we're trying to be somewhat subtle about it." he replied. "Full disclosure, or none at all?"
"Full." Mac said with no hesitation. It had always been her policy.
Clay nodded to Tig.
"You know we get beef with the Mayans." Tig said. "They're annoying, but more recently they've been escalating. Their VP will be in a safe house about an hour and a half outside Charming. He'll have a couple of patched brothers with him. Injure a few, including the VP - send a message. Just enough to let them know someone can get to them."
She nodded.
"We've got a TM shirt we'd like you to wear." Tig continued. "Ideally, that will link them to us, though not with any certainty. Everyone we hate could dig up a TM shirt. Either way, don't show your face. They don't know you, and we don't want them to. Blow some shit up, cause some mayhem. Make a mess."
Mac grinned.
"No problem." she said. "Get me an address, a time, the shirt, and a picture of the VP. I can provide the firepower, though it'd be great if you guys could get me a loaner bike. Something small and fast."
Clay nodded. "We can do that. Let's make this next Saturday, okay? Meet at the garage at like 6."
"Sounds good." Mac said. "I'll be expecting a stiff drink when I return."
"Deal." Clay replied, and he and Tig stood to leave. As they did, Tig toss her a shirt.
"That's the TM shirt." he said, winking at her.
The guys left without further ado, leaving Mac to hold the shirt up in the sunlight.
"Motherfucker!" she swore. It was, as promised, a regular TM workshirt. Only this one had the name Chibs embroidered on the pocket.
Fucking Tig.
—
Mac pulled into the clubhouse just before 6pm that Saturday.
A hang-around waved her in shut the gate behind her. Mac parked, making sure she had everything before leaving her truck.
She was loaded for bear - ready to make a mess, just as Tig had said.
She wore all black - fitted cargos, shitkicker boots, and a long-sleeve shirt under Chibs' TM shirt. Leather riding gloves and a black scarf completed the ensemble. Mac had slid a thin flak vest under the work shirt - just in case - and a utility belt hung around her waist.
One of the things she'd installed in Tara's house was a large weapons safe, and it was from there that she'd taken what she needed for this job.
Mac had the Glock she always wore strapped on her hip, as well as the ever-present knife in her boot. A Beretta hung on the other hip, it's twin at the small of her back. For more serious firepower, she had am MP5 slung across her back, and was carrying a lengthened AK, which would give her the accuracy and range for the VP shot.
Ready to go, she shook out her hair and slid her sunglasses back into places before walking over the group of Sons milling around outside the garage. None had noticed her, yet. Mac walked up, dropped the butt of the AK on the ground, and leaned on it, waiting.
Tig noticed her first.
He was talking to Chibs when he looked up and saw her. Chibs saw him do a double take, and then a triple take before he was able to look up himself.
"Woah." said Tig, getting everyone's attention.
"Holy Mary, Mother o' God." Chibs muttered, filling the sudden silence.
He found himself, once again, blown the fuck away. The familiar heat swept through him viciously, and he wanted - more than anything - to claim the woman in front of him. To sweep her away from the roving eyes of his brothers.
Mac was dressed for battle, hair down, sunglasses and cheeky grin firmly in place. He took a deep breath, trying to suppress the sudden hard on her appearance had inspired.
And then Chibs noticed the name on her shirt.
He stood abruptly, not really sure of his intentions. In response, half the group looked at him, and Mac leaned more heavily on her gun, cocking her hip and head.
Chibs, who might've normally responded to the obvious challenge in front of him, had been frozen in place.
In my shirt!
Happy, of all people, broke the silence.
"Nice." he said, deadpan. Chibs swallowed roughly as the grin on Mac's face widened. He saw heavily as Mac pushed her sunglasses back into her hair, and gave a little salute.
"G.I. Jane, at your service." she said.
Internally, she was grinning wildly. The look on Chibs' face when he'd noticed her, his sudden stand, his obvious reaction to her in his shirt. She was far from immune to the fantastic feeling of power it gave her to bring that particular Son to the edge of his control.
Her face may not have revealed any of it, but Mac knew that her eyes, when they met Chibs', told the entire truth.
"You are…" Bobby began, trailing off.
"Every little boy's wet dream?" Tig supplied for him. Mac rolled her eyes.
Clay stepped forward.
"I'd make your hand, but I'm not sure I'd survive." he said.
Mac shrugged. "You wanted a mess, you got it."
"Let's get you on your way then." he said. "Crotch rocket's over there. Remember, don't let them see you. We'll be here when you get back."
Mac nodded, grabbing the bike keys from Clay and catching Chibs' eye one last time. She waved to the group at large before turning towards her ride.
Chibs was still frozen. Every time she caught his eye, it was like being punched in the gut. He watched her go, watched her add an unholy swing to her step, watched her straddle the bike.
It took some skill to ride a bike like that.
If her legs can hold on to that, I wonder what else they can do.
He shook his head, forcing his thoughts out of the gutter before they could get too far into a scenario involving himself, Mac, his Harley, and very few clothes.
Tig, however, noticed, and gave him a hard punch to the shoulder.
"See somethin' ya like, Chibbs?" he asked, and the rest of the Sons chuckled.
"Wha' hot-blooded male would't've like tha' show, Tig?" Chibs replied, brushing him off.
"An' who gave her my fuckin' shirt?"
Tig and the others just roared with laughter.
—
It went well enough.
Mac tagged the VP first with a neat shot to the thigh, which gave the other patches some time to run. Not enough, though, to escape the range of her MP.
They'd shot back, as expected, but she'd scurried down the hill to the house, dumped a container of gasoline she'd found on the back porch, and lit the whole mess on fire. Her guns got dumped in the accelerant as well.
She made sure some of the fleeing Mayans caught a glimpse of the TM shirt, just as Clay had wanted. Her features were obscured with a balaclava, and her hair was tied tightly back. It was well done.
Once she heard the yells that meant she'd been seen, Mac worked her way back up the hill, eyeing the flames as they reached over the tree tops. Her bike was hidden on the opposite side of the road from the Mayans' vehicles, so she was able to watch as they left.
As the adrenaline wore off, she felt a stinging in her right thigh. Mac looked down, and saw that one of their bullets had caught her after all.
"Merde." she growled. The muzzle flash of the bloody MP must've given her away.
It was only a flesh wound, but it was bleeding steadily. Not wanting to leave a trail, she wrapped her scarf tightly around the wound. Devoid of the heavier guns, the trip home would go a bit faster. She would be fine.
Mac slid a clear pair of glasses on, and took off.
—
It was almost 11:30pm before Chibs heard the bike outside.
Mac parked quickly, hurrying inside. Her leg burned with every step, though tolerably. Inside, she greeted the Redwood charter, Happy, and Gemma.
Chibs' eyes narrowed when he saw her. She looked slightly paler than usual, and something was tied around her leg. Was she limping?
Clay stood to greet her.
"How'd it go, Rambo?" he asked. Mac gave him a thin smile.
"Job went fine." she replied. "The fire should've been seen for a couple of miles, easily. Completely blew their location. I left before the fire dicks showed up, but so did all the Mayans. I'm sure I got the VP in the thigh, a few others in various places, though I doubt anything was deadly."
She shrugged.
Clay nodded, holding out his hand. Mac took a step forward to shake it, and Chibs was suddenly certain she was limping.
He was up and out of his seat before he could think. He twitched an eyebrow to her as he walked up, and Mac rolled her eyes. But she bent down anyways to untie the scarf from around her leg.
"It's just a flesh wound, Chibs." she said, for the general benefit of the room. Murmurs broke out, and they crowded forward to check out her injury.
He ignored her, gently picking her up and carrying her over to lay on the bar.
"They tagged me once." Mac continued, rolling her eyes again. "I've gotta stop using the MP. I love the action, but the muzzle flash gives me away."
She wasn't outwardly showing pain, but Chibs could see the twinge in her eyes and hear the pain in her thicker-than-usual accent. His did the same thing.
"Anyone got a needle and thread?" Mac asked wryly. Tig snickered, but it was Chibs who answered.
"I'll take care o' ya, luv'." he murmured, pulling the scarf the rest of the way off. The Sons gathered around, and there were more murmurs of appreciation as the wound became more and more clear.
"All right." Chibs said. "Jus' a flesh wound, as ya said. Pret'y deep, though. Prospect, grab me my kit, and a bottle of somethin' strong."
"You're a doctor?" Mac asked.
"Was a medic, in Her Majesty's army." Chibs said, pulling rubbing alcohol out of the bag Half-Sack brought him.
"Got court-martialed after five months."
Mac smiled wide.
"Funny, I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse." she said.
Sack handed her a shot of the something strong, and she threw it back gamely.
Chibs just smiled.
"Brace yerself, funny girl." he said. "This'll burn."
The rubbing alcohol more than burned, and Mac slammed her hand down on the bar and swore low through gritted teeth.
"Hijo de puta resignada."
The Sons all looked at her.
"What?" she growled. "It bloody well hurts."
"Was that Spanish?" Juice asked.
"Your last name is Ortiz, isn't it?" she asked him, nodding.
Juice nodded.
"Do you speak Spanish?" she asked.
"Not even a little." Juice said, smiling. "How'd you learn?"
Mac sighed.
"College." she said. "Though I was more fluent after a mission in Spain. And then another in Colombia. Let me tell you, the differences in the dialects are more important than you might think. I almost lost my head a few times, mixing them up."
Juice chuckled. Behind her, Chibs frowned. He knew she was ex-government, but Colombia was harsh.
"How's it look, Chibs?" Mac asked.
"Took some muscle with it, but you've go' plenty." he replied. "Nothin' some stitches and hard liquor canae cure. Find somethin' ta hold on ta. I'm gonnae stitch it up."
He dipped the needle - string and all - into the alcohol.
"Don't worry." Mac said. "I've been stitched in way worse conditions, and by those who were far from so friendly."
She said the last part softly, and Chibs squeezed her knee.
The Sons drifted away once it became clear that Mac was going to be okay. Juice remained, taking a seat on the bar stool in front of her.
"What's the worst injury you've ever gotten?" he asked.
Chibs, now further sterilizing the needle with a lighter, listened closely.
Mac bit her lip, thinking back. She hadn't been seriously injured in a while.
"Technically, everything is beyond classified." she started. "But off the record, I once drove over a bomb in the far east of Russian. I mean, places where there aren't humans for, for days. I thought I would die that - fuck me."
She was interrupted by the first push of the needle, and swore loudly.
Chibs paused for a moment, her oath penetrating his brain.
"Gladly." he said, low and tight and right into her ear, his hand just barely brushing her arse.
Mac squashed the blush that threatened, but she couldn't stop the damned heat that filled up her stomach. Thankfully, no one else had heard Chibs over the snickering that had filled the room.
"Sorry." Mac said to Juice. "He caught me by surprise."
Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the bar. Juice looked sympathatic.
"Have ya ever had a bullet removed?" he asked.
"More than once." Mac said. "The deeper ones require a lot more liquor. Or just a quick hit over the head."
Conversation with Juice kept her distracted for the next few minutes, as Chibs finished the stitches, cleaned the wound again, and covered it against infection. Around them, the Sons drifted out of the room, headed for home. When he was done, Juice wandered away, leaving Chibs to help Mac sit up.
"Keep this clear, okay, darlin'?" he said. "Donnae want it gettin' infected."
Mac tried not to flinch at the burn as she slid her legs over the edge of the bar.
Tig and Clay said their goodnights once they saw that Mac was sitting up again, leaving her alone with the Scot. He stood behind her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. She was still wearing his TM shirt.
"Are ya gonnae be alright ta drive?" he asked, beginning to rub her shoulders. Mac could only sigh and nod, enjoying the feeling of his hands.
They were quiet like that for a while, as Chibs slowly worked her into a boneless pile of relaxation. Mac leaned back into his solid chest, unable to resist. He took immediate advantage of the position by moving her hair off of where it covered her neck, giving the first bump of her spine a soft kiss.
Mac shivered violently.
"I love ya hair, ya know." he said quietly. "It's wild, and lovely, and it smells good."
He pressed another kiss to her neck, slightly higher up. Mac let out a tiny whimper and let her head roll forward a little more. Chibs took the invitation to run his hands down from her shoulders to her waist, where they splayed out, thumbs pressing into her lower back.
"An' this bloody shirt." he said. "Ya've no idea wha' it did ta me ta see ya with ma shirt on."
He could hear his accent thickening with desire. Mac hummed.
"Why do ya continue ta deny this, luv'?" he asked.
When Mac didn't respond, Chibs sighed.
"Truth?" he said. "I don' wanna be jus' friends. I didn' even wan' tha'. But I'm no' stupid, lovely girl. This thing between us is bigger than a quick fuck. I think we'd be dynamite in bed, but tha's no' the only thing I'm after."
He gave her neck another quick kiss.
Mac couldn't move. Her body had filled with cement from the moment Chibs had started talking. He'd dissolved her ability to leave with one kiss. She only half heard what he was saying, but the gist of it was there. Her control pulled tight, so tight, a moment from snapping.
"Mackenzie." Chibs said, in that way she'd so come to love.
It shocked her out of her stupor, and she stiffened in his arms.
"I… I can't, Chibs." Mac said, pulling away slightly. "No matter how much I want to. And believe me, I want to."
But Chibs only tightened his grip, determined to get answers before she walked away again.
"Why no'?" he growled.
"I can't."
"Ya already said tha'. Why not, Mackenzie?"
"You'd hate me. You'd hate me if you knew."
Her voice was very, very quiet.
Chibs snorted. As if.
"Non, vraiment, Chibs." Mac said, with more passion than she intended.
"I'm danerous, and not at all a good person. I'm a killer, Chibs. Vous ne pouvez pas vouloir un tueur. And there are things in my past that would come and hurt you and I… Just ne peux pas."
(No, really… You can't possibly want a killer… I just can't)
She twisted out of his grip and slid off the bar, remembering to land on her good leg.
Mac looked him in the eye, forcing her own face to harden against what she might see there.
The lines around his eyes were tight. Deep brown, sharp, angry, disappointed, and… resolved.
Shit.
He didn't get it. He wasn't listening to her, and he wasn't going to stop.
"You don't understand," she whispered, and limped out of the clubhouse.
Once again, Chibs found himself frozen. It was true - he didn't understand, but she wouldn't tell him.
Mac wasn't the only killer in their group of Sons.
It's not like the Sons are innocent. Why won't she just tell me?
He honestly couldn't think of one thing she could've done that would scare him away. Mac just was not bad.
He took a deep breath. Chibs wasn't done with this. Mackenzie was a special woman, and every time she showed him more of herself, he could imagine less and less just letting her walk away. Danger had never kept him away from anything before - why start now?
He decided to go find Mac the next day, and figure this shit out.
Chibs never got the chance. That night, the Mayans blew up their gun warehouse.