Mace (Untamed Sons MC: Birmingham Chapter #1)

3. Maylie

THREE

MAYLIE

It’s a twenty-minute walk to Temptation, but I do it in fifteen. By the time the bar comes into view, my legs are aching fiercely and I’m so winded, I’m wheezing.

I don’t stop to catch my breath as I lift my eyes to the neon sign over the door. Temptation is not a high-class establishment, and the clientele is mainly stag parties and out-of-towners looking to have a good time. We do have a few regulars, but they’re mostly bored, older men trying to recapture their glory days.

As I approach, Archie is standing in the doorway of the club, a cigarette clutched between two fingers, smoke circling around the tip. Despite the thick, woollen coat he’s wearing overtop his shirt and pants, he pulls his shoulders up to his ears, trying to ward off the cold.

I adore Archie. In fact, I adore most of the people working here, even the dancers, who I thought might be bitchy. Turns out most are just like me—girls with mouths to feed at home.

Archie’s huge smile tugs at his lips, breaking through that serious demeanour he usually shoulders when he’s looking for bad guys to toss out the bar, and he’s very effective at that, mostly because he’s fucking huge.

His shoulders are twice the size of mine, and I know his muscles have muscles. I don’t worry about him hurting me because the warmth he radiates gives the impression of safety, even though there is another side to him. I’ve witnessed firsthand the violence he’s inflicted to keep us girls safe, but I don’t think about that. Right now, I’m just relieved that someone is happy to be around me, and that for the next seven hours of my shift, I don’t have to deal with teen tantrums.

“Hey, Archie.”

He looks down at me because my head barely reaches the top of his chest. “Two minutes to spare, Maylie girl. You lookin’ to piss Sam off?”

I’m not, but I don’t have time to delve into the issues I have at home, nor do I want to. There aren’t enough hours in the day to get into my problems with my sister. Instead, I place a hand over my heart as I hurry past him. “Me? Why would I do that?”

He snorts. “You brought any of those brownies with you this time?” he shouts after me.

“No, I’m sorry.” The disappointment in his eyes is almost too much to take, and despite my lateness, I stop. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I just stole your puppy. I promise I’ll bring brownies next shift, okay? But I gotta go or Sam will kill me.”

Dragging one of the double doors open onto the main floor, I’m not surprised to see a hive of activity already. There are twenty tables and booths scattered in front of a large stage. In the light, everything looks different, but I’ve been here long enough to know that the dark in the room can be dangerous. No one has ever hurt me, but it’s not unusual for violence to occur once the lights go down and all eyes are on the stage.

Sam might cut corners with a lot of shit, but he hired a good security team, which is one of the reasons I’ve stayed working here.

As I rush into the room, Stella is already on the stage, practicing her routine. Her fingers wrap around one of the steel poles as her body moves in ways that shouldn’t be possible. My hips hurt just watching, but I’ve come to realise there’s a real skill to pole dancing. It takes so much strength and athleticism to swing around those things. Stella is one of the best dancers Temptation has. Her movements are graceful, and her routine is so fluid, it’s beautiful to watch. It makes me sad that in half an hour, she’ll replace her workout clothes with lacy lingerie that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

But I don’t have time to put the world to rights, and even if I did, I wouldn’t. Life is hard, and everyone is just trying to make their way through it.

Instead, I give her a frantic wiggle of my fingers to say hello as I rush across the floor and through the ‘Staff Only’ door.

I’m sweaty and out of breath by the time I reach the dressing room. It’s a hive of noise the moment I enter, and the wall of perfume I walk into chokes me. Dancers sit at the dressing tables that line the full length of one wall, piling makeup on to their pretty faces or styling their hair into elaborate designs. Half-naked bodies wander around with a confidence in their movements that I could never possess, no matter how long I do this job.

My sister might hate me, but the chorus of greetings I get as I rush to my locker tells me that sentiment isn’t universal.

I may not have friends here—other than Bella—but I am liked.

“Is Sam in yet?” I throw the question out, not caring who answers it as I undo the padlock.

“He’s in the office,” Candy says, watching me in the mirror she’s sitting in front of.

Her makeup tonight is amazing. Neon pink sweeps across both eyelids, and I wish I would look that good with it on. Most of the time, I swear I look like a half-drunk panda.

“Thank you.” I have time to get out on the floor before he notices I’m late.

I drag open my locker and shove my bag inside, grateful I have my uniform on under my jeans and sweater. I strip out of my clothes, tugging the hot pants out of my bum crack, and try to make my small boobs look better in the clingy tank top. The more cleavage, the better the tips, but I was not blessed by the titty gods.

Despite my hangups about my body and appearance, Sam tries at least once a week to convince me to get on stage and dance like the other girls, so I guess I can’t be that much of a troll. What’s worse is I’ve considered it more times than I can count. Money is so tight right now, I could really do with the tips these girls make on that stage, but I’m too nervous to take my clothes off in front of people. And I can’t dance. I have zero rhythm, something Sam waves off every time I tell him. I know he only wants me on stage because I have an innocent, good girl vibe about me that he thinks his customers will lap up.

Maybe I should do it. It’s only showing my boobs.

I stuff my clothes into the locker before opening my phone in case Ivy or Toby have tried to call or message since I left. I won’t be able to check again until my break in four hours’ time, and being out of contact for that long freaks me out, particularly with things the way they are. They can call Sam, and they know that, but he’s not always in his office.

There are no notifications. Not even a message from my phone carrier.

Way to be a loser, Maylie.

It’s hardly surprising though. Although these ladies are nice to me, it’s not like we’re going out every weekend to bond over coffee and cake. Everyone works as much as they can, including me.

After I quickly touch up my makeup, I slip my feet into my ankle boots, wobbling for a second on the stiletto heels as I wiggle them into place. There’s a delicate silver chain that wraps around the front and back of the boot that I love. It catches the stage lights as I walk, twinkling.

I grab my brush and tie my dark brown hair up before pulling my wig out. It’s bubble gum pink with blue and green streaks through underneath, and weirdly, it gets me better tips than my natural colour.

With practiced ease, I secure it into place, making sure it doesn’t fall off the minute I bend over. Most of the girls wear wigs so they can match their hair to their costumes and because it saves time. It was Stella who suggested I should try one too, even though I don’t dance. It started out as a joke, but as soon as I put it on, I felt empowered .

With that wig, I’m no longer Maylie Fernsby, the girl with a dead mum and two siblings she’s struggling to raise. I’m someone else—someone who isn’t worrying about paying the bills or what trouble my little sister is getting into. For the few hours I’m here, I feel free to be twenty-two and… normal , which is weird to say considering where I am.

“You look hot tonight,” Star says, her fingers trailing over my hip as she passes me.

“So do you.” I slam my locker door, securing it as I turn to her. “I didn’t think your boobs could look any better, but that bra really brings out their perkiness.”

She shakes her head at me. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Maylie.”

I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but I take it as one. “Thanks,” I say, heading for the door, “and your boobs really do look good. I have major boob envy.”

When I get out onto the main floor, Bella is already behind the bar, stocking the fridge. Her hair is curled in loose beachy waves that I would die to emulate, but my thin strands just won’t hold a curl.

“You’re cutting it close,” she says as I grab the ice bucket and move to the freezer to fill it.

“Close isn’t late,” I reply, a little too smug.

Bella straightens from her crouch to grab another box of beer bottles, giving me a look that says she’s over my shit. It’s true friendship that she doesn’t call me on it, though.

“It’s gonna be busy tonight,” she warns.

“Good. Busy equals more tips.” And fuck knows I need them.

Rent, food, electric… there’s a list as long as Bella’s legs of things I need to pay at the end of the week, and I only have money to cover about a quarter of it. I’m hoping I can make the rest up tonight.

I glance up as Steve wanders over. He manages all the bouncers and security at Temptation, and unlike Archie, he doesn’t like my brownies. I don’t think Steve likes anything other than fighting and Bella.

In truth, he scares me a little. The man is hard as nails. I’ve seen him fight six guys and take all of them down without breaking a sweat. Granted, that’s easier when the group you’re against is half-cut and ten sheets to the wind, but still. I was impressed, and clearly, so was Sam because he gave him a promotion the next day.

Despite his frosty demeanour—to everyone other than Bella—I’m always happy when he’s on shift with me. He has a natural ability to pre-empt trouble before it happens, and in this kind of setting, that’s a gift. He’s stopped me getting hurt more times than I can count.

I give him my warmest smile as he approaches, even though he doesn’t acknowledge my existence. Instead, he leans over the bar, gesturing for Bella to come to him. Her eyes heat as she sashays her hips and rolls to her toes.

In a move that makes me want to swoon like a lady from a period drama, Steve leans across the bar and curls his fingers around the back of Bella’s neck in the most sexy, possessive gesture I’ve ever witnessed.

Oh… sweet… lord.

I’m practically combusting as he crushes his mouth to hers. There’s no hesitation or care that they have witnesses. He kisses her like they’re alone in their bedroom, and she reciprocates. Her tongue presses against his as they devour each other without any fucks given .

I avert my attention to the ice machine, giving them the illusion of privacy—not that they seem to want it. I’m not a prude. I see naked bodies every shift, but this feels deeply personal, and I don’t want to be the gawking virgin.

When they finally pull apart, he doesn’t immediately release his hold on her, but his lips curve into a soft smile. I’ve never seen him do that for anyone but her, and I’m envious of the way he wants her. If someone looked at me with that intensity, I’d be a puddle. Bella’s no less affected. Her eyes are heavy, and her neck is flushed when he releases her.

The pathetic thing is, I’ll never have this, and I hate the little flash of jealousy that goes through me. I’m not a spiteful person, and I don’t begrudge Bella her happiness, but there is a part of me that wishes someone would kiss me that way.

And as soon as I think it, I’m filled with self-loathing. I don’t regret my choices. If I had to do it again, I would always take care of my brother and sister, but I wish our mother was still here and that our lives hadn’t changed so much after she died.

“Fuck, baby, you are good enough to eat,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing to hers.

“You can do that later,” she sasses, and he kisses her again.

My face heats, and I become fascinated by the bowl of limes on the back counter. What would it feel like to have someone between my legs, eating my pussy? Or to be kissed like I’m their everything?

My stomach sinks.

That’s not your path, Maylie …

Bella catches my eyes as she moves to the back of the bar and mouths ‘holy fuck’ at me. I give her a thumbs up, letting go of my jealousy. At least one of us has a hunk of muscle promising orgasms later.

“You girls ready?” Steve asks, as if the last few minutes never happened.

His thick forearms rest on the bar top, revealing prominent veins.

“Of course, we’re ready. We’re not rookies,” I tell him with an overinflated sense of confidence.

If we’re going to be as busy as Bella thinks, we should get decent tips—hopefully, enough for me to pay my landlord, Bernie.

Steve ignores me, but Bella smiles. “You’re so adorable.”

That’s me, the adorable girl who brings brownies to a strip club and hands them out to men who can crush skulls with their bare hands. No wonder no one wants to sleep with me—I’m a fucking golden retriever.

I’m going to die a virgin.

“You girls stay safe, okay? Take care of each other. Me and the boys will be close by if you need help.”

There is always some measure of shitty behaviour from our customers, but I sense from his tone he’s expecting more than usual.

I glance at Bella, and she doesn’t seem worried by Steve’s words, so I relax.

“Your radio is charged?” he asks.

I walk over to the back of the bar and check the two-way walkie-talkie that sits in the charger. “Battery’s full,” I confirm .

“You feel unsafe in any way, you use it, okay? I’ll be here in a second.”

“That’s hot as hell.” Bella breathes out the words, tangling her fingers through his on the bar.

“Me doing my job is hot?” Steve raises a brow before lifting their joined hands so he can kiss her knuckles.

Another knicker-melting moment.

I want what she has. I want someone to look at me like I’m worthy of dating, not that I’m… fucking adorable . Who the hell wants to be adorable? I want to be sexy and tempting. I want a guy who can’t keep his hands off me.

My heart is heavy. I’m lonely. It hurts to admit that, but it’s true. I have Ivy—for now—and Toby, but it’s not the same as having intimacy with someone.

Who in their right mind is going to want to date a twenty-two-year-old virgin with all the complications I have?

My smile falters as I go to the fridge, needing something to focus on other than my ugly self-loathing. I grab a cold Coke from the back, and when I emerge, Steve and Bella are no longer touching each other.

I hand him the Coke over the top of the bar. He takes it from me with a muttered “Thanks” before adding, “You’re a good girl, Maylie.”

Adorable. A good girl.

All things I don’t want to be.

Even so, it’s high praise from Steve. He barely speaks two words to me outside of work conversation, so my throat tightens at the compliment.

“I need to work on changing that. No one likes good girls.”

“You couldn’t be bad if you tried,” Bella pipes up, grabbing the chopping board and the bowl of lemons .

I couldn’t, mostly because I don’t have time to be bad.

Playing with the ends of my wig, I purse my lips together contemplatively. “Maybe I’ll give it a go. I like the idea of being a little naughty.”

Steve opens the can and takes a swig. “I got enough problems with this lot causin’ trouble. You’re the only one I don’t worry about.”

“Hey, I’m an angel.” Bella’s indignation makes me giggle.

In the time I’ve been working here, she’s had three boyfriends, all of which have been nightmare fuel. The last guy would come to the bar and kick off anytime another guy so much as looked at her. One night, he used his fists against Bella in a fit of anger. Steve lost his shit when he saw those bruises the following day and gave the boyfriend a few bruises of his own. When Bella got home from the hospital, Steve told her since she couldn’t pick a decent boyfriend, he was going to date her himself.

Swoon .

“You are an angel,” Steve says to Bella, earning a sweet smile from her, but it quickly morphs into fear as her eyes lock onto something behind me.

Instinct has me turning to see what it is, and as I do, three hulking men cross the floor towards us. Each of them is wearing a leather vest, and when one of them—a blond guy with a tattoo running up the side of his face—turns to examine the room, I glimpse what’s on his back.

The words ‘Untamed Sons’ are arced over the top of a skull with angel wings wearing a crown. Beneath it is the word ‘Birmingham’. There are other patches, but I can’t make them out as his position shifts .

“Fuck,” Steve grinds out, and the tone of his voice sends a shiver skittering down my spine.

The air is so thick, it feels hard to breathe. I don’t know what’s going on, but the way everyone else is acting has me on high alert.

So much for feeling safe at work. The security I felt when I walked into the building tonight is completely stripped back. The way Steve and Bella are both reacting is heightening my own apprehension.

“Why are they here?” Bella asks, her gaze darting between him and what I’m guessing is a threat.

“I don’t fuckin’ know.” He shakes his head, his throat corded as if every part of his body is wound tight. “If anything happens, you girls hide, okay?”

Hide? What the hell?

“What about you?”

“Don’t argue with me, Bella.” His tone is not playful, and she doesn’t retort back, which tells me how serious this is—whatever this is.

Swallowing hard, he pushes off the bar, shaking his shoulders out as if preparing for a fight before he walks over to them.

I shift closer to Bella, realising the music Stella was practicing to is no longer playing and she’s not on stage either. In fact, the room has completely cleared out other than the men, the bouncers, and me and Bella.

“Why are the fucking Sons here?” Bella murmurs under her breath, her arms wrapping around her stomach as if she’s nauseous.

“Who are the Sons?” I ask, unable to drag my gaze from the scene unfolding in front of us. Nothing has happened yet, but the weight of expectation has me on edge.

“Bikers you don’t fuck with.”

That ominous answer does nothing to appease the unease growing into outright fear.

Sensing she needs it—and because I need it too—I slip my hand into hers and squeeze her fingers as we wait to see what unfolds.

Steve says something to them, but I can’t hear what. It’s enough for the one in the middle to throw his head back and laugh. It’s not a jovial sound, and I hear the ice coldness threaded through it.

Without warning, his hand snaps out and grabs Steve around the throat. My stomach lurches at the sight of violence against a man who is usually dishing it out.

What is happening?

Bella gasps, her fingers flexing in mine and crushing my bones. I suck in my own breath, my chest suddenly constricted so much, I can’t inflate my lungs.

“Oh, fuck .” Bella’s fear increases my own terror.

Every instinct in my body tells me we should run. I know Bella won’t leave Steve, and I can’t leave Bella, but I also have two kids at home who rely on me, so I tug her hand.

“We need to go.”

Steve and the other bouncers aren’t fighting back, which is the biggest warning flag of all. I’ve seen these men throw down night after night in this club. They know how to defend themselves, and the fact they aren’t means they fear these bikers too.

That’s enough for me to know we can’t stay .

“Steve told us to go if things got bad, and they’re about to, Bella.”

Her mouth curves down into a grimace of pain that I know isn’t physical but visceral as she nods.

Slowly, we inch towards the end of the bar. No one is paying even the slightest amount of attention to us, but we still move carefully.

“Where’s your boss?” the guy gripping Steve’s throat demands.

“Take your hands off me and maybe we can have a civilised conversation.”

The men laugh.

“Do we look fuckin’ civil to you?” the blond one asks.

We reach the opening between the counters and move along the wall towards the staff area. Just as we’re about to slip through the door and out of sight, it opens, and a looming figure fills the frame.

My stomach clenches even as my heart rattles an unsteady beat beneath my ribs.

Move. I need to move, but my legs have suddenly turned to stone, so I do the only thing I can. I tip my head back, and then tip it farther because the man in front of me is like a fucking tree. I barely reach the slope of his shoulders.

He’s wearing a bandana across his face and neck, covering everything below his nose so all I can see is his dark eyes. Like the other bikers, he’s wearing a leather vest, and he smells of cigarettes beneath his aftershave.

This time, I do step back, bumping into Bella and knocking her against the wall behind us. My heart races as he mirrors our movement, and the coldness in his eyes awakens some primal instinct inside me that has all the warning lights on my internal dashboard flashing.

Bella squeezes my hand so tight, I can feel her fear through the gesture. What the hell is this guy going to do to us?

“I’ll scream,” I warn, but there’s no response to my threat. His eyes remain cold and empty. “Please, just let us pass.”

He doesn’t, and his eyes are brighter at our fear. That fear turns into something more potent as I back up, taking Bella with me, my hands as sweaty as hers.

“Are you scared?” he asks, and I flinch. “Run, little rabbits. I like the chase.”

My stomach bottoms out, cold filling every part of me as he steps towards us, encroaching on our space.

“Blade,” a deep voice snaps from behind us.

I twist so hard, I nearly crack my neck as another biker looms at our back and our situation goes from bad to worse. Now, we’re sandwiched between Mister Emotionless and whoever this new guy is. Bella clings to me as I press us both against the wall, trying to make myself even smaller than I already am.

Fuck. I can’t die. Toby will go into foster care, and my sister will run off with Link. I want to squeeze my eyes shut and block everything out, but I can’t. My brain won’t let me.

Flicking my gaze between the two men, I notice only the new guy has a patch on the front of his vest that gives him a title.

‘Road Captain’.

What the hell is a road captain?

Ignoring the images that conjures, I lift my lashes to his face and my breath lodges in my throat. I could not have created this man in my deepest and wildest dreams.

He’s gorgeous.

I know it’s not right to want to mount someone who may or may not be trying to kill me, but this guy is sin wrapped and packaged in denim and leather—and also plaid, which I didn’t know I liked until this exact moment.

His dark hair and trimmed beard that circles his top lip and chin before spreading up his jaw line gives him a roughened edge, and although Blade is bigger than him, he’s still huge. His shirt fits tight across his pecs, and the sleeves are rolled up in that sexy way men wear them, revealing thick forearms covered in a patchwork of tattoos.

Beneath all of that, I sense the deadly danger rolling off him. The promise of violence ripples just beneath the surface of his stormy eyes, and the other guy—Blade—seems just as pissed. Are they going to fight each other? Two giants facing off is never going to end well.

“Go to Nic,” tall, dark, and handsome says, and although Blade’s face is covered, I’m pretty sure he’s scowling.

For a moment, neither man moves, and the tension is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. Then Blade leans towards me and hisses, “Maybe next time,” in an ominous voice that sends chills skittering down my spine.

The relief I feel when he moves away, giving me and Bella some room to breathe, is short-lived when the Road Captain’s gaze snaps to me.

And then my heart stops dead.