Mace (Untamed Sons MC: Birmingham Chapter #1)

4. Mace

FOUR

MACE

Temptation is a shithole. Granted, it’s nicer than a lot of the Pioneer businesses we’ve taken over in the past few months, but the dark walls and crushed velvet seats don’t scream upmarket establishment. It means the clientele—and the staff—are likely to be shitty and cause problems.

I hang back, watching Nicky, Dash, and my foster brother, Riot, confront the security staff, half-expecting tempers to erupt. Luckily, our reputation precedes us, and these fuckers don’t seem like they are going to fight back, not even after Nic grabs the biggest one around the neck.

I watch my best friend, ready to jump in if needed, safe in the knowledge we have more men to call on if we need backup.

Diesel and King are positioned to come through the back to make sure the manager—a weaselly fucker named Sam—doesn’t escape. That little prick has been dodging us for a week since we told him this business is now Sons’ property. Dash, our money man, reckons he’s been moving cash out of the accounts and into his own—something he’s going to pay for.

It’s been six months since Desmond Richardson was murdered. Six fucking months since our nightmare with those Pioneer cunts ended. In that time, we’ve gone through the city, flushing out the last of the remaining members of his gang and cleaning up the mess he left behind. That involves seizing assets that once belonged to their shitty little crew.

Temptation is the last of those businesses we’ve absorbed, and good old Sam thought that since it’s been so long since the former management was murdered, he could keep hold of it.

He’s about to realise that mistake is going to cost him everything.

As Nicky talks to the guy, movement behind the bar draws my gaze.

Where I’m standing, I’m hidden behind one of the booths, but I have a full line of sight from my position. Two girls are shifting step-by-step towards the end of the counter, their terrified faces locked on my club brothers and the scene unfolding before them.

As they reach the end of the bar and disappear around the corner, I come out of my hiding place, passing the boys.

Nic, who has released his hold on the big bouncer, slides his gaze to me, question in his eyes, but I shake my head, telling him to stay where he is.

As I follow their footsteps, I see Blade towering over the two girls. Fuck. He might wear a Sons kutte, but he fucking puts me on edge.

I don’t trust him, and not just because he’s a squirrelly fucker. He’s in deep with Crank, and that’s reason enough not to trust him. Our President is a coward.

“I’ll scream.” The girl with the bubble gum pink hair makes the threat, even though her voice wobbles.

Blade advances, and although I don’t know what he’s planning, I say his name.

His eyes lift from above the bandanna covering his face. I can see why they might think they’ve crossed paths with the devil—there isn’t an inch of light behind his eyes. As he stares at me, I can feel his frustration that I’m in his way. “Go to Nic.”

He doesn’t like the order. I can tell when his eyes narrow and his face twitches above the material.

Well, fuck him. I have no objection to putting him on his arse if he wants to fight me.

He leans in to say something to them that I don’t catch before he huffs a breath and walks away.

One of these days, he’s going to stick a knife in my back. The club is so fractured, and although I’d like to blame it on the shitstorm we went through with the Pioneers, it was already broken before that.

Weak heads can’t turn necks, and Crank is the weakest of all. I’ve put up and shut up for months, but only because Nic told me to trust him, and I would follow Nic through the gates of hell if he asked. It doesn’t make it any less difficult to face these pricks without wanting to slit their throats.

I slide my gaze to the two women, intending to tell them to join the other girls in the back rooms, but my words die on my tongue.

Both women are gorgeous, but it’s the one with the hair like candy floss that takes the breath out of my lungs. She’s tiny, and despite the skyscraper high heels she’s wearing, the other girl is at least a head taller. Unsurprisingly, she’s barely dressed, but I don’t think she’s a dancer. Her perky tits heave against the tight tank top she’s wearing, and those tiny little shorts cover more than they would if she was a stripper.

She looks too fucking sweet to work somewhere like this.

I push that thought aside immediately. Looks can be deceiving, and although she exudes innocence, I know better than to think she truly is. No one works in a place like this unless they’re shattered by their circumstances.

I study her closer, both intrigued and cautious about this strange piece in the jigsaw puzzle.

She does have pain in her eyes—I see that beneath the surface—but it’s not the crippling agony that drives a person into the bottom of a bottle or to shoot up substances to wash away the pain.

There are no demons dancing around her, trying to drag her into their murky depths. She is a beacon in a dark, turbulent ocean, and I don’t like how my breath lodges behind my ribs because of her.

Her gaze remains magnetised to mine, as if she can’t bear to drag her eyes from me. There’s no disgust or horror in her expression, and that dislodges something inside me. She’s afraid of me, but she’s not looking at me as if I’m the devil.

I can’t remember the last time someone looked at me without hate burning through them. I didn’t realise how much I missed being treated like I’m not a monster.

But you are a monster, Mace.

“Are you both okay?”

My little doe pulls her friend behind her farther, shielding her with her body, despite the fact she’s smaller. “Please don’t kill us.”

My brow arches. “Why the hell would I kill you?” I understand why she might think that, and I don’t know how many dealings they had with their former owner, but we ain’t a thing like Desmond Richardson’s fucking crew.

“I don’t know. Your friends came in here kind of aggressively.” She winces as she says the last word. “I mean… I’m not saying you’re aggressive, though I’m sure you could do damage if you wanted to, but?—”

“Stop,” the other girl hisses in her ear, and she closes her mouth.

“You’re about to have a change of management. This is a Sons business now.”

As I say this, yells reach my ears. I glance over my shoulder to see Diesel and King dragging a guy wearing a white button-down shirt with dark trousers, his neck and wrists dripping in gold. He fights them like he’s possessed, his whimpers and cries of fear unnecessary considering we ain’t even started his punishment yet.

Nothing worse than a fucking screamer.

I roam my gaze over the man who has forced this show of power from my club, and my lip curls up in disdain.

Sam thinks he’s a don, but he’s a tacky fucker with no power and zero friends. He pleads endlessly on a loop for his life but not the lives of the innocent girls he employs. That tells me exactly what kind of prick he is.

“What are you going to do to him?”

Nothing good, but I’m intrigued why she cares, and it’s clear from the worried look on her face that she does. “You with him?”

Why the fuck did I ask that ?

I have no idea, but the thought she could be his pisses me off more than it has any reason or right to.

She shakes her head, and for some reason, the knot that was forming in my chest loosens. “He’s my boss and… he’s always been good to me, to all of us. I don’t know what he’s done, but he’s harmless.”

“No one is harmless,” I mutter, turning to walk away. A hand wraps around my bicep, and I glance back to see the little doe peering up at me.

My skin heats the moment she touches me, and the warmth spreads through my body in a needy ache. What the fuck…

“Don’t,” her friend rasps at her but is ignored.

The determined look on her face is not what I expect. “He has a five-year-old daughter at home who needs her father.”

Her willingness to stand up for this prick surprises me, and it’s been a long time since that has happened.

Maybe I underestimated good old Sam.

“That ain’t up to me,” I tell her as Sam lets out a wail when Diesel and King toss him onto the ground in front of Nicky and the others.

My body is alert, uncertain whether the security staff, who had until this point been pliable, will decide to strike out. When no one moves, I relax a little.

“Please,” she pleads, her eyes wide, and she has just enough sense to show a hint of fear.

Does she know who we are? The reputation my club has?

“Go stand over there.” I indicate for them to join the bouncers.

She pulls her fingers away from my skin, her brows tight, and instantly, I feel cold. I need to touch her again, but I flex my fingers into fists at my side so I don’t.

“Go,” I repeat.

Both women stumble forward, and Nicky shoots me a look as we approach. His expression gives away nothing, but I’ve been friends with him since we were kids, so I can read the warning. Be prepared for trouble.

As soon as we get close, the friend rushes over to one of the security guys, who envelops her in his beefy arms. My little doe hovers close by but alone. Interesting. She’s not with any of these men, a fact that shouldn’t matter, but it does.

Her eyes stay downcast, as if she doesn’t know where to put herself.

“Sam,” Nicky drawls, “do you know what we do to people who steal from the Sons?”

I pull my gaze from her to focus on my best friend. Sam looks like he’s two seconds from shitting his pants, and my foster brother’s eyes are shimmering in a way I recognize. He’s ready for a fight.

“I didn’t steal nuthin’,” Sam wails. “This bar belongs to Desmond Richardson. He’s dead, and in the event of his death, I inherited the deeds to the club.”

Nicky stares down at him, his expression like a dark rain cloud. “You inherited nothing. All that fucker’s businesses belong to the Sons. And I know you know that, because my boy, Dash, here came by just yesterday to tell you once again that this place is under new management.”

Sam licks his dry lips, his eyes darting around, as if he can find safety with the security guards hired to keep the bar protected. I wait, wondering if they will defend him, but they have the sense to keep out of it .

“I’ve worked my arse off to get this place where it is. You can’t just take it from me.”

“Just like you took over ten grand out of the accounts?”

He blanches, clearly not expecting Nic to know that, and my little doe sucks in a breath.

“I was gonna put it back.”

Nic lifts his chin to King and Diesel, who immediately reach for Sam, lifting him onto his feet. He flails in their grasp, hysterically pleading for his life. “You stole from us, Sam, and that comes at a price.”

“I know he did a bad thing, but don’t kill him, please.” This doesn’t come from Sam, but from my little doe.

Nicky turns to her, his cold eyes appraising her, and every part of me wants to stand between him and her.

That’s never happened before. Nicky is my ride or die friend, the guy I would take a bullet for without a thought, the best friend I’ve been through so much shit with over the years. The only thing that keeps me from standing between them is knowing he would never raise a hand to a woman, especially not one as petite as she is.

“You’d beg for this cunt’s life?”

I can tell her mouth is dry by the way she swallows. Her friend is staring at her with wide eyes, as if willing her to stop talking, but all I can focus on is the pretty pink staining across the top of her breasts and up to her neck as she peers up at Nicky, sucking back breaths.

There’s a reason my best friend is our chapter’s Sergeant at Arms. He’s built like a fucking mountain, and his shaved head makes him look menacing. I’ve seen grown men cower in front of him, and yet she’s standing up to him.

“I’d beg for anyone’s life. ”

Her throat works as she finishes talking, and Sam closes his eyes, gratitude working over his face. We didn’t come in here intending to kill him anyway, but this girl might be the only honourable thing about this fucking place.

Nicky steps up to her, and she shrinks back, her arms wrapping around her body protectively.

“What’s your name?”

“Just ignore her. She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” her friend blurts out. “Sam stole and should be punished, right?” The friend glares at her.

This woman has zero sense of self-preservation.

Nicky ignores the outburst, focusing on the little doe in front of him. “Name?”

“Maylie.”

She says it like May-lee, drawing out the second half. I’ve never heard that name before, but it suits her. Pretty and feminine, just like her.

“And what do you do here, Maylie?”

“I… I work on the bar, serving drinks and tables.”

“Do you like this job?”

This question seems to confuse her. “Um… does anyone like their job? I mean, none of us are working for the fun of it. Well, there probably are people who do work for the fun of it, but not in a place like this.”

She rambles on and on, ignoring her friend as she digs her fingers into her arm. Her gaze darts towards Sam, and I can see she’s torn about what to do. Her loyalty towards this man surprises me, but it says a lot about her as a person to want to save a wank stain piece of shit like him.

“If you want to keep workin’ here, you’ll learn not to question shit. ”

Her bottom lip pulls between her teeth as if she’s trying to hold back her words, and when Nic speaks again, it’s not to her.

“Get him out of here.” This is said to Diesel and King, who drag him out. “Dash, find the accounts and go through them. I want to know exactly what’s missing and what we’re dealing with. Blade, disperse the crowd out front waiting to come in. Tell them we’re closed for the night.”

“Closed?” Maylie’s voice is pitched high.

I stare at her. She looks as if she wants to say more, but a glare from Nic silences her. This woman has a fucking death wish.

“Come on, May,” the other girl says, grabbing her hand. “Let’s go and tell the other girls the good news. They get to go home early.”

Maylie lets her friend steer her away, but just before they disappear around the edge of the bar, she gives me a final glance. There is so much in that fleeting moment that I almost step to follow her.

Who the hell is this girl?

Nicky steps up to me, and we move away from the brothers a little. “She’s gonna be a pain in the arse,” he notes.

“I like her,” I admit.

His brow arches. “Of course you fuckin’ do.”

“Trust me, bro, girls like that are trouble,” Riot says as he moves around us.

He’d know. My foster brother is a fucking slut. His eyes are already following two dancers who were hidden by the stage area.

Nicky’s gaze roams around the room, taking in the dank walls. “I don’t know why the fuck Crank wants this place. We’d make more money selling it and letting it be someone else’s problem.”

He’s right. The club already has a whole portfolio of legitimate businesses that we use to wash money through. We don’t need another fucking strip club, but Crank is forever making questionable decisions. I don’t know his reasons for wanting to keep Temptation, but he’s President and what he says goes—at least while he’s still wearing that crown.

“We’ll only need to be here for a few weeks to make sure everything is running smoothly.”

He snorts. “I can tell you don’t handle the business side of fuckin’ nothing. That ain’t ever how shit works.” He shakes his head. “Let’s get what we need and get the fuck out of here.”

He walks away, and I make to follow him, but before I do, my gaze strays towards the door Maylie disappeared through. I want to go after her, but I force myself to follow my best friend instead. The last thing I need is to get caught up in pussy.

“Nicky’s right,” I mutter under my breath. “This place is gonna be fucking trouble.”