Mace (Untamed Sons MC: Birmingham Chapter #1)

6. Mace

SIX

MACE

I fucking hate coming here. The walls are painted in bright colours, an attempt to make it seem more habitable, less sterile, but the smell of bleach still hangs in the air. It’s bleak, and there is a sense that this is the place people come to be forgotten.

As I pass the nurses’ station, I lift my chin to Ellie, one of the day staff, and continue down the hall, passing several rooms. My head is full of a certain little bartender.

Maylie.

Fuck. She had caught my attention the way she stuck up for Sam. That fucker would have sold her to the highest bidder if it saved his own ass.

“Mace, wait.”

I pause as Ellie rounds the desk, coming to stand in front of me. The awkwardness radiating from her tells me whatever she wants is going to piss me off.

“I… um… Julie…”

Her name, as usual, makes my fucking jaw tick. “Julie, what?” I demand, my tone cracking like a whip .

Ellie shifts nervously on her feet as her gaze slides to my kutte, and I rein in my temper. It ain’t her fault my foster sister is a fucking spiteful bitch.

“She requested that you and Nathan not be allowed to visit when she’s not here.” My teeth grind together. Of course, she did. “If it were up to me, I would’ve told her to shove it. Maggie loves seeing you both, and she’s always happy after a visit, but your sister has power of attorney over her and?—”

“She ain’t my fuckin’ sister,” I growl, turning and heading up the corridor.

I may have considered her family for a time, but that hasn’t been the case for a long while now.

“Mason! Come on, don’t make my day hard.”

“If you want to call her or the police, I don’t give a fuck. All I care about is Maggie sitting in her shitty little room, day after day, seeing no one but nurses and thinkin’ me and Nate stopped fuckin’ caring.”

She wrings her hands together, torn between the demands of my foster sister and the needs of her patient. Fuck Julie. Her spitefulness knows no fucking limits.

“That cunt can call me if she has a problem,” I say over my shoulder, not slowing my pace.

It’s one thing to block me from seeing Maggie. I came to her at sixteen, after my mum died, and she raised me to eighteen, but Nate? She’s his fucking mother. He has every right to see her.

“Fuckin’ Julie,” I mutter as I keep walking.

Most of the doors I pass are closed, but every now and then, I get a glimpse of the occupant, sitting in a chair, either asleep or staring at nothing but the four walls surrounding them. Poor fuckers .

If I ever need to be in one of these places, I’ve already told Nicky to put a bullet in my head, and it pisses me off that Maggie is trapped in this fucking dump.

As I reach the room, I knock, waiting to hear her voice before I enter.

The room doesn’t look any different from the last time I was here. The single bed is pushed against one wall, but the cot railings on either side are a new addition. My gaze skims over the cracked plasterwork and thinning carpet. This would never have been my choice for where to put her, Nate’s neither, but Julie got her fucking claws in before anyone could do shit to stop it. I’d pay for her to be somewhere better, but that bitch won’t allow it.

My anger fades as Maggie gives me a beaming smile. She sits in a wingback chair at the window, her long, grey hair loose around her shoulders. Her weathered face softens in a way that makes my chest ache.

“Hey, beautiful,” I say softly.

Her smile grows bigger, and fuck if it doesn’t make my chest ache to see it. “You can’t say things like that to a lady. It gives the wrong impression.”

I grab one of the visitor’s chairs and place it next to her as she runs a hand over her hair, checking it’s in place. It’s such a familiar gesture that it makes my stomach clench.

“I just say it as I see it, Maggie.”

Roaming my gaze over her face, I try to gauge how she’s doing today, but as usual, I can’t tell anything yet.

“You’re one of those players, aren’t you? You talk a lady up, have your way with them, and then leave them. I know your type.” She lifts her chin. “But that won’t work on me, young man. I’m not easily swayed. ”

I chuckle under my breath. “You’re not turned by a pretty face?” I ask.

Her eyes narrow slightly before her gaze bounces around the room. “Are you here to fix my cupboard? The door’s been hanging off for days.”

That pain in my chest is like boiling lava. Fuck. I should be used to seeing her like this, but it never gets fucking easier. “No, Maggie, I’m not. Do you remember me?”

She leans back in her chair, staring at me like I’m a puzzle. “Did you used to own the shop on the corner of… the corner of… I can’t remember the street, but is that where I know you from?”

I keep my expression neutral even as my insides knot. “No.”

“Who are you then?” Her head snaps around the room. “Where am I? I need to call my husband. He’ll fetch me.”

That pit opens in my stomach. Her husband died when Nate was three, and that tells me everything I need to know about how she’s doing today. Her mind is either stuck in the past or lost in the confusion of her memories. Neither is a good place.

I reach out, taking her hand in mine, hating every moment of this. I’ve done a lot of bad shit in my life, but nothing as cruel as what the body does to itself.

“It’s okay, Maggie. It’s okay. I’m Mace… Mason, remember? I lived with you when I was younger. You took me in after my mum died.”

Her brows draw tighter together as her fingers trail over her forehead. “I’m sorry. I must’ve had a moment, but I can’t…” Her mouth opens then closes. “Are you one of Jack’s friends? ”

Her eldest son isn’t quite the same level of shithead as her daughter, but he ain’t far off. He allowed Julie to put his mother in this crap-hole place, despite earning a six-figure-a-year salary. His excuse? He’s in the middle of a divorce and custody battle, and he can’t deal with both that and his mother.

“Yeah, I’m a friend of Jack’s,” I agree, and the smile she gives me warms the coldness around my heart.

I swallow down the bile in my throat, ignoring the acid tickling the back of it. I should be used to this conversation—we have it every time I visit—but for some reason, today it feels worse. Maybe because I wanted to talk to the woman who was for many years a parent to me and there’s zero chance of that.

In a lot of ways, it would have been easier if she’d physically died. There would have been a period of mourning, of remembrance, and then growth from it.

But instead, Maggie’s cognitive abilities diminish more every day. She remembers less and less about the life she had before her brain began to destroy itself.

My throat clogs as my gaze moves to the window, unable to keep looking at her. The view of the street beyond the care home is all she can see from that fucking chair she’s stuck in day after day.

“You saved my life, Maggie. I hope somewhere deep inside you know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me.”

It would be impossible to repay all the ways she put me back together. After my mother killed herself, my path wasn’t looking good. I was fifteen, just about to turn sixteen, and although I’d spent so many years taking care of myself, the moment Mum died, I was no longer capable in the eyes of children’s services.

I was in foster care for a month before I understood the meaning of the phrase ‘better the devil you know’. There was no way in hell I was going to be bounced around from home to home, dealing with whatever scumbag foster carers I was placed with. I was ready to run, to take my chances on the street, but then Nicky’s dad came through for me.

I don’t know what he did, or how he managed to pull so many strings, but within a matter of hours, I was placed with Maggie, and all those social workers just… disappeared .

Back then, Maggie was in her fifties, and I’d been a little shit. I’d never been parented a day in my life and didn’t have the first clue how to handle someone caring about me. And Maggie had rules… lots of them . I had to be in by a certain time, we ate dinner together every night, and I had to attend school and do my homework, two things I couldn’t give a shit about.

I pushed back at first—and hard—but being on my best behaviour was a proviso for getting my prospect patch. I was so desperate to join the Sons the moment I turned eighteen that I would have done anything.

In truth, Maggie was the mother I always needed, and I wish she’d come into my life sooner. She’d raised hundreds of foster kids, some for only a few days, some for longer. I was with her for two years, but that time remains the best of my life. I was safe, and I never had to worry about who I was coming home to or if there would be food in the fridge. I never had to take care of my mother while she attacked me or fend off the fuckers she’d owed money to. I no longer had to hear that I looked like my bastard rapist father.

I was glad my mum was dead, and I hated myself for thinking that. She was sick, but my life was better after she was gone. It took me a long time to work through that and to understand I wasn’t a bad kid for thinking it.

Maggie helped with all that. She gave me security and a family of my own. Her three kids became my siblings, and for a while, everything was good between us all. I loved Julie, Jack, and Nate like they were my own blood, but after I got my kutte, everything changed.

I was an easy scapegoat, and although Maggie never allowed them to badmouth me in front of her, I’m pretty sure Julie and Jack hated my fucking guts… and still do.

“Do you know about the car I had when I was seventeen?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with excitement. I’ve heard this story more times than I can count, but I smile.

“Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

By the time I leave, my stomach is hollow. It seems so fucking unfair to me that someone like Maggie, who has dedicated her life to helping others, could have her mind just ripped away by dementia.

As I walk down the corridor, my mind is full, and all I want to do is ride until it’s clear again.

“What the hell are you doing here, Mason?” a familiar voice snaps in front of me.

I glance up to see Julie standing at the nurses’ station with an apologetic Ellie half-smiling at me.

I scrub a hand over my jaw, resisting the urge to yell in my foster sister’s face. Julie’s the same age as me, and she’s fucking beautiful—on the outside, at least. Her curly dark hair reminds me of a younger Maggie, but her eyes are not soft or gentle like her mother’s.

“Julie,” I say.

She gets in my space, stabbing a finger into my chest. “You’re not part of this fucking family,” she hisses. “Stay away from my mother or I’ll call the police.”

What Julie doesn’t seem to realise is the Mason she thinks I am is long gone. Mace is a different fucking entity, and if she knew half the shit I’ve done, she wouldn’t be fucking laying her hands on me.

“So, call them,” I grind out, stepping around her.

“Don’t come back here, Mason.”

I spin towards her, my anger flaring, and she has the sense to shrink back. I’d never lay a finger on her, even though every beat of my heart pumps with the rage I feel for what she’s done to someone I love.

But she doesn’t know that.

Her eyes bounce to my kutte before locking on my face. “Or what?”

That shuts her mouth. She ain’t got a clever comeback for that, and I try to see past the bitchy walls she’s built over the last decade to the little girl who used to sit with me in Maggie’s garden, drinking lemonade, while Jack and Nathan played. It’s really fucking hard to see that girl in the woman standing in front of me.

“She’s not your family,” she repeats on a breathy whisper.

“No, she ain’t. She would never be in a fuckin’ place like this if she was.”

I walk away, ignoring the abuse she tosses after me, and as I step out into the sunshine, I unfurl my fingers from the fists I’d made, unsurprised to see half-moon imprints of my nails in my palm.

Fucking Julie.

My shoulders are tight as I climb on my bike. She ain’t ever going to stop me from visiting Maggie. I don’t care how fuckin’ angry she is at me, I’ll never give up this time with my foster mum.

As I make my way back to the clubhouse, the mid-afternoon traffic is busy, giving me time to both think and calm down.

I thought once the Pioneers were gone, some semblance of normality would return, but shit is just as messy as it was before.

Which is exactly why I shouldn’t be thinking about the girl with bubble gum-coloured hair. Fuck. In a sea of darkness, Maylie is the fucking light, and it ain’t often I see anything good in the world around me. Her working in that fucking dive place ain’t right, and it makes me curious to know why she is. In fact, I want to know everything about her.

As I ride through the gates of the clubhouse, lifting my chin at the prospect standing guard, my body is vibrating with a mix of emotions. Seeing Maggie always throws me off course, and dealing with Julie is enough to push me over the edge I constantly teeter on.

I pull my bike into an empty space between Nicky’s and Riot’s Harleys, glad they’re here. They are the only brothers I trust in this entire chapter, though that wasn’t always the case. I used to trust every brother wearing the Untamed Sons patch.

After I park up and step inside the clubhouse, I brace for whatever shitstorm is no doubt brewing today. This was once my sanctuary, but it ain’t that anymore.

My gaze sweeps over the bar running along one wall and the tables scattered around, a few filled with members. The Sons insignia is painted in black and white on the wall directly across from the entrance, the Birmingham patch below it. It’s a symbol of our club and our loyalty to the brotherhood behind it.

As usual, Crank is sitting in a booth with Chloe in his lap, her legs parted, and his hand between her thighs, stroking back and forth. My teeth grind together.

Fucking cunt.

She’s half his age, which ain’t a problem, but she ain’t club tail, and the way he treats her like one pisses me off.

The club is full of whores. That’s the shit my mother had spouted at me all those years ago, and it hadn’t been the case then, but it sure as fuck is since Crank took over. Chloe isn’t the only woman in the room who is grinding on a brother.

She meets my gaze and gives me a tentative smile that I don’t return. She knows full fucking well I don’t approve of this— whatever the fuck it is —between her and Crank.

It turns my stomach to see him pawing all over her, but it doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told her she deserves better than being our President’s plaything, the girl always comes back. She’s drawn to the club like the rest of us are, and I can’t blame her for that. The Sons is all she has, and Crank takes advantage of it… and her vulnerability.

I shake my head at her, and her smile fades. I hate doing that to her, but I won’t pretend I’m good with this.

Fucking hell, Chlo .

Spotting Nicky and Riot through the double glass doors that lead out to a patio area, I make my way towards them, pushing Chloe out of my mind. She’s her own worst fucking enemy, and there’s no helping someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

Before I reach them, a figure steps into my path. Fucking Blade.

His face is uncovered, his gnarly scar on full display, and his eyes are hard as they take me in.

I brace for whatever is about to happen.

“Don’t get in my business again,” he grinds out.

He’s talking about the shit at Temptation, where he cornered the two girls—one of which was my perfect little doe, Maylie. I grab the front of his kutte, tugging him so there are only inches separating us. “Don’t get in my fuckin’ face again.”

Shoving him away from me, I step around him. There was a time when I would never have considered touching a brother in anger, but I’d put a knife in his fucking gut in a heartbeat. I don’t fucking like or trust the fucker.

“You’re not as untouchable as you think you are, Mace,” he says after me.

That works both ways, fucker. I’m not sure if he knows his days wearing the patch are just as numbered as Crank’s. Ravage, our national and London president, and Howler, our Manchester president, will cleanse all the disease from the club when they make their move. I just hope it’s soon because I hate playing fucking nice.

As I shove through the door, my anger at Julie has morphed into something far more dangerous because of Blade.

They both glance up as I approach them, Riot eyeing me as if he can see the weight bearing down on my shoulders. I didn’t tell him I was visiting his mum today, and I don’t know why. He would have come with me if I’d mentioned it.

He also would have eaten his sister alive.

“You okay?” he asks as I sink onto the low wall where they’re perched.

“Yeah,” I lie, “fucking perfect. You see that shit in there?” I hook my thumb over my shoulder.

“Crank and Chlo?” Riot guesses. “It’s fucked-up, brother.”

It’s more than fucked-up, and we all know it.

“Ain’t a chance she’s his kid,” Nicky says, playing devil’s advocate. “And Chlo’s twenty. Ain’t like she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“Ain’t about him potentially being her daddy,” I mutter. “It’s the fact she’s someone’s kid in that building, and until we know who, I don’t think that dirty prick should be stickin’ his dirty prick anywhere near her. She’s club, not free cunt.”

“Yeah,” Nicky agrees. “There’s a lot of shit he shouldn’t be doing, and Chlo ain’t the worst of it.”

He’s right about that. Our chapter is more divided than ever since Crank became President. I love my club, more than I can express, but him leading us is a joke. He’s a coward who cares more about drinking and shagging barely grown girls than he does about the patch, which was how the Pioneers got so fucking powerful in Birmingham, and the main reason we lost Hawk to Manchester. Every death, every spot of blood spilled, is on that fuck.

And at some point, he’s going to pay for every single crime he’s committed while wearing club colours .

“His time’s coming,” Riot says in a low voice, as if he reads my mind.

“He’s gonna have some leeway for a while, considerin’ the fact he’s cleared out seven Pioneer businesses and added them to the club’s books.” Nicky pulls out a cigarette, offering the packet to us.

Riot takes one, but I don’t. I’ve got a shit-tonne of vices, but I can’t stand the smell of it. It takes me back to my mother. She always stank of cigarettes and booze.

“Ain’t right,” I complain.

“No, it ain’t,” Nicky agrees, “but we have to bide our time. Ravage wants him gone and he’ll figure out a way to make that happen.”

“We also need to watch Blade,” I remark.

“That ain’t news,” Riot says. “The guy is a fucking creepy bastard.”

He is, and not even because of the smile carved into his face. I’m fucked-up, I’ll be the first to admit it, but that guy… his demons are chasing other demons. He’s buckets of crazy, which is why Crank keeps him close.

“With the girls at Temptation,” I amend, “he scared two of the bartenders half to death last night.”

That makes Nicky sit up straight, his cigarette dangling between his fingers. My best friend feels a certain way about violence towards women. “What did he do?”

I think back to the pretty little bartender with the ridiculous wig and the fear on her face. “Nothing, but only because I was there. He’s a fuckin’ shithead, and I don’t trust him. He’s in Crank’s pocket, and that tells me exactly what kind of man he is.”

Nicky relaxes, letting his shoulders drop a little. “Half the men inside the clubhouse are in Crank’s pocket, Mace. He is our President after all.”

There is bitterness in those last words, and I get it—Crank ain’t worthy of the patch.

“Not half,” Riot says.

“Meaning what?” Nicky asks.

He leans forward, stubbing his cigarette out on the underside of his boot. “There’s a lot of brothers who ain’t too happy about how things are being run.” He straightens his back, stretching the muscles out. “I get the feeling most of them would be quite happy to see the back of Crank and Grub.”

That surprises me. “Like who?”

“Diesel, for one, and I reckon King as well. Ain’t sure about Dash’s loyalties yet, since he’s pretty close with Blade and he might decide to honour their friendship rather than the patch.”

“Are you sure about that, Riot?” Nicky asks. “One wrong move and we’re pushing up fucking daisies. I don’t want to trust the wrong people.”

Riot shifts his shoulders. “I hear shit from our club brothers. Ain’t a single one happy with the status quo right now. I reckon they’d flip if given enough incentive.”

Incentive like the backing of our National President…

Fuck. We only just finished one war, and now, we’re about to head into a far worse one. This won’t be the club against its enemies—this will be brother versus brother. Some of the guys in this club have known each other for years, grew up together, are related by blood. It’s going to tear apart every single faction of our chapter.

I tip my head back to stare up at the moody grey sky. We survived hell, battling against the Pioneers without the backing of our President. It was hard when we had our hands tied by someone who was supposed to give us the means to defend ourselves no matter what. I’ll never forgive him for the things he has done. His inaction caused the deaths of so many brothers and Jade. She was just a child, with her whole life ahead of her, and because of that shit, we lost her and Hawk.

“Keep pushing and probing. The more information we have, the easier things will be when Rav is ready to move.”

“What about Temptation?” I ask, and I know the reason I care has nothing to do with the business itself.

He blows out a breath. “Crank wants to keep it on the books. Someone will need to be posted there for at least the next month or so while we handle the takeover and put some rules in place. I don’t think we’ll get any backlash from the staff, but I ain’t gonna sit around waiting for trouble.”

“Except for that little mouthy one.” Riot grins. “She sure as fuck had a lot to say.”

He’s talking about Maylie, and my jaw clenches. “She ain’t gonna be an issue,” I mutter, mostly because I intend to ensure she won’t.

“I get her riding my cock, she’ll forget all about—” I slam my fist into his side, relishing the ‘oof’ that escapes his mouth. “Fuck, Mace.”

Nicky stares at me, suspicion in his expression. “You don’t shit where you eat, brother,” I mutter, but that ain’t the reason I hit him. The thought of him getting his teeth into Maylie pisses me off.

His eyes twinkle, even with the pain behind them. “You like her. ”

“I don’t know her,” I counter, but it annoys me that he’s on the money.

“In that case, I’ll take one for the team.” Riot blows out a dramatic breath as he rubs at his side. “Those ladies need a protector.”

“And you’ll fuck most of them before the week is out.” I give Nicky my full attention. “I’ll go.”

I’m no better than my brother because my motives for volunteering are entirely selfish. I couldn’t give two fucks if the bar burns to ashes, but I want to see her again.

Nicky arches his brow at me, a million questions rippling across his face. I have zero answers to any of them, so I say nothing.

“You wanna babysit the pole dancers?”

I shift my shoulders, standing from the wall. Keeping an eye on Temptation puts me back in Maylie’s sphere again. “Ain’t like I’ve got anything else to do.”

Nicky shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what I’m saying, but Riot answers, “Bro, I was fuckin’ born for this role. All that fresh cunt dancing is like my dream come true.”

“I’m sure you’ll find other ways to entertain yourself,” Nicky drawls.

“You keep putting your dick around, it’ll rot off.” My smirk earns me an eye roll.

“I never smack unwrapped,” Riot says. “You taught me that.”

I taught him lots of shit over the years, so it annoys me that’s the only fucking lesson he learned. At least it means we don’t have a string of kids running around.

Nicky leans back against the bench, his gaze zeroing in on me. “You okay? ”

Of course, my best friend sees through the mask I put in place. I know he’s asking about my sudden desire to volunteer, but I’m not ready to talk about that. Not when I don’t understand why I did it myself.

So, I do what I do best—I deflect.

“I went to see Maggie.”

Riot sits forward, interlacing his fingers between his parted thighs as pain ripples across his face.

“Figured it was somethin’,” Nicky says, but he doesn’t give me or Riot sympathy. The three of us have been close for so long that those words would be empty. He knows what Maggie means to us both.

“She doin’ okay?” Riot asks, sounding like the thirteen-year-old kid I met all those years ago.

“The dementia’s pretty bad, but it ain’t Maggie that’s got me torn up. It’s your fuckin’ sister.”

Riot nods, his head lowered so I can’t read his expression. Julie hates me for leading her little brother into a life of crime, but she’s never forgiven Riot for joining the club either, even though Maggie was already entwined with the Sons long before I came into the picture.

“What’s she done now?” he asks.

Nicky pushes to his feet, understanding in his gaze. He knows firsthand how shit our family is. He squeezes Riot’s shoulder before he heads inside.

I watch him go before I blow out a breath.

“She tried to stop me seeing Maggie. You’re on that same list too, Nate.” I revert to his real name now that we’re alone.

His head snaps up, anger contorting his face. “What? She can’t fuckin’ do that. ”

“She’s your mum’s power of attorney. She makes all the decisions about Maggie, includin’ who sees her.”

“Fuck.” His face contorts as he tries to lock down his anger and fails. “She’s such a cunt.”

“I want her out of that place,” I say. “It’s a shithole, and your ma deserves better.”

“Yeah, she does. I got some money. Maybe Jack’ll step up for once as well. That prick’s loaded.”

Unlikely, considering the amount he’s paying out in legal fees for his divorce and custody battle.

“He won’t do shit, and we both know it.”

He huffs out a breath. “This is Julie’s way of punishing us both,” he mutters, turning his bowed head to pin me with an angry stare. “I’ll talk to her.”

“You’ve talked to her before.” He has, many times.

He was always going to walk this path. Riot loves to fight, and he loves to fuck even more. The guy was never going to be content in a nine-to-five suit and tie. We call him Riot for a reason.

“Yeah, well, this time, she’s gonna fuckin’ listen.”

I pat his shoulder as I stand. “We’ll figure it out. I gotta get going. Watch your back out there, okay?”

He nods. “You too, brother.”