Mace (Untamed Sons MC: Birmingham Chapter #1)

7. Mace

SEVEN

MACE

I head back through the clubhouse, ignoring the shitshow around me, including Chloe and Crank, and make my way out to my bike.

As I ride to my flat, my thoughts are chaotic, and they don’t slow until I fall into bed. I wake an hour before I have to be at Temptation, so I take a shower and eat before making my way over just before doors open.

Two security guys are standing outside the entrance, their faces like granite as I approach. Guess no one’s rolling out the red carpet for me .

I smirk before stepping around them, as if I don’t have a care in the fucking world despite being outnumbered, and they don’t stop me as I head inside.

Their hate for me, for my club, means nothing.

The change in lighting as I move down the corridor that leads to the main room has me squinting, and my hand shifts to the knife I keep hidden under my kutte. I don’t think anyone would be stupid enough to attack me, but I keep my wits about me anyway .

When I push through the double doors and onto the main floor, the lights overhead illuminate every inch of the room. I glance around, my gaze locking on the bar area, but I don’t see my pretty little bartender behind the counter.

“Hey,” a voice says from the side of me. I turn my head as a hulking guy walks over. I recognise him from the other night, but I’m not sure what his name is. “Can I help you with something?”

“No,” I say, his tone making the hackles rise on my nape.

I wander over to the bar, pulling out one of the stools and sinking onto it.

Even though I have my back to the guy, I’m hyper aware of every movement he’s making behind me, ready to strike out if I need to, but he’s clearly fucking smart. Instead, he comes around the back of the bar, grabbing a Coke from the fridge.

“You get a lot of trouble here?” I ask, leaning my elbows on the top of the counter.

He grinds his jaw back and forth before sighing. “Of course. Anytime you combine tits and booze, shit always gets out of hand. We see a lot of out-of-towners who don’t know who the bar belongs to… or belonged to. Locals knew Richardson and his crew. It kept them on their best behaviour. I’m guessing that’ll be the case once people learn the Sons have taken over.”

“Hey, Steve, I hope you’re hungry.”

The familiar female voice has my head whipping up just in time to see my pretty little bartender heading towards us. She’s clutching a clear box against her chest, and her head is lowered, allowing her dark brown hair to cascade around her shoulders in loose waves. She turned my head the first time I saw her, but now, my cock feels like stone in my jeans, even though she’s completely oblivious to my presence. She looks amazing without that shitty fucking wig on, and images of my fingers threading through her hair float through my mind.

“Because I’ve brought an entire box of brownies tonight. Archie demanded I bake some…” She trails off as she lifts her head and our eyes lock.

Fuck.

She’s a siren sent to tempt me.

Her breath quickens, which gives me hope that she might feel something between us too, but then her gaze darts to the prick standing next to me—Steve, I assume—and my mood crashes. For some reason, it fucking irritates me that she’s looking to him for reassurance. What does she think I’m going to do to her?

“Hey.” When I don’t say it back, she shifts on her feet, awkward tension rolling through her. “Do you want a brownie?”

She thrusts the box in my direction, a hopeful look on her face.

“I’m good, sweetheart.”

Colour spreads through her cheeks, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the endearment or the refusal of her offer.

She brought brownies to a fucking strip club? Who is this girl?

“Oh, you should have one. They’re really good. I know I shouldn’t say that, considering I made them and it’s a little arrogant to think that everybody likes them, but no one ever complains, and everybody always wants me to make more, so I take that as a good sign.” She clamps her mouth shut as she comes to the end of her rambling.

I have so many fucking questions. First and foremost, how did she end up working somewhere like this? Maylie is sunshine and rainbows, and Temptation is a dank shit heap where dreams go to die.

Steve steps over to her, taking two brownies out the box. “Thanks, May.”

Her beaming smile is fucking sunshine on a cloudy day, and I’m irritated it’s not directed at me. “If you want more, I’ll put the box in the back room. I’d stash a couple before the girls get hold of them… Archie too.”

As she walks away, I lean to the side to watch her go, both hating and loving the tiny fucking hot pants she’s poured into. The globes of her arse fill the material perfectly, and her legs are lengthened by the stiletto heeled boots she’s wearing. I should look away, but my eyes linger on her, drinking her in like a thirsty fuck.

“How the fuck did she end up here?”

The air changes instantly, charged with heavy tension. Steve rubs the back of his neck, his discomfort evident. “Listen, pal… Maylie’s a good girl. She’s well-liked by everyone here, and despite workin’ in a shithole like this, she’s innocent as fuck. She ain’t the girl you use for a good time.”

His warning settles over my shoulders heavily, and I arch a brow, bristling at his words. Who the fuck does this joker think he is?

I glare at him, even though he’s at least three inches taller than me and broader. He might have the biggest balls in this room, but I can guarantee he won’t cross the lines I will .

“First, I ain’t your pal, and second, why the fuck are you in my business?”

Steve holds up his hands, the gesture placating, and I take a lot of pleasure from the way he blanches. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful,” he soothes. “I just care about her. May’s been through a lot.”

What has she been through? I need to know everything I can about her, and I need to know it now. I grit my teeth. “Like what?”

“That ain’t my story to tell.”

He’s an idiot, but he’s a loyal one, and even though I want to knock his teeth out, I respect him a little more for showing it.

“Don’t fucking step between me and my shit again,” I warn.

“I won’t, as long as that shit ain’t Maylie.”

Stubborn fuck.

Before I can reply, a melodious laugh catches my attention, and I see Maylie standing in front of the staff entrance with another woman dressed in the same shit—the girl she was with last night.

Disappointment threads through me that she’s covered her hair with that ridiculous wig, but Steve is right. Her innocence drips from her, and I don’t mean in the sense that she’s unworldly—I don’t get that vibe from her—but like the darkness that has touched her is grey, not black.

I return my gaze to Steve, who is eyeing me like a pissed-off father until his radio crackles and a fuzzy voice sounds over it. He walks away, but he glances back at me before he goes.

The two women walk over, sliding behind the bar. The other woman eyes me through slitted, wary lids but doesn’t say anything. She’s afraid of me, and she’s smart to be. Her dark curly hair bounces around her shoulders as she thrusts a knife through a lime with enough force to leave a mark on the chopping board beneath.

Her dismissal doesn’t bother me, because Maylie is smiling at me like I haven’t spent the past decade of my life trying to crawl out of hell. Doesn’t she see the blood staining my soul? Doesn’t she understand the terror I’ve inflicted as I murdered men just for their affiliation to the Pioneers?

I don’t get the sense she’s a kutte slut, trying to hook her nails into a biker. I don’t think she even understands the peril she’s created being on my radar.

I’m not sure I understand it yet myself.

Her tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip, and I can’t stop from following the movement. There’s no sexual intention in it, but my balls are heavy the moment I see it.

Fuck.

“If I can’t tempt you with a brownie, can I at least get you a drink?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“What do you want?”

“Coke’s fine.”

She wanders over to the fridge and grabs a can, walking over to me and sliding it on the bar top. It feels like a peace offering, until she asks, “What happened to Sam last night?”

“He’s fine.” Diesel and King beat the shit out of him, but he’s breathing, which is more generous than he deserves.

Her brow cocks. “I know you beat him, but that’s all you did? Really? ”

“Really,” I assure her. “We don’t make a habit of murderin’ people.” A lie, but I don’t want to scare her off me. Not until I’ve had a chance to delve into that pretty brain of hers.

“So, if I call him?—”

“You don’t believe me?” Maylie may have zero self-preservation skills, but she is at least mistrustful enough to question things.

There’s a moment of panic in her eyes before she says, “I don’t know. I don’t know you. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Mace.”

“Is that your real name?”

“No.”

“You’re not going to tell me what is?”

I left that name behind a long time ago, and I don’t tend to divulge it, but I find myself opening to her. “It’s Mason, but I ain’t been called that since I was a kid.”

She leans her elbows on the counter, the other woman on the bar watching us like a hawk. “You don’t like it?”

“No.”

She tilts her head to the side, her eyes focusing on me as if she can pull all the thoughts out my head. “Which means mind your business. Got it. I didn’t mean to intrude. I don’t like my name either. I’m not sure why my parents picked it.”

“I like it,” I say, and again, that pink spreads along her chest.

“Oh… well, you might be the first. This is Bella. She and I are both working on the bar and floor tonight. Well, most nights. There are a couple other girls who are scheduled between us, but we usually work opposite shifts.” I in tend to make sure I know exactly which shifts Maylie’s working before I go home tonight. “Bell, this is Mace.”

Bella gives me a slight lift of her lips, her eyes remaining glacial. She sees what I really am, and she’s afraid.

She’s smart to be.

The lights suddenly fall, creating shadows at the corners of the room. The stage illuminates and music thumps through the speakers near to the front, drowning out everything but the constant bass.

Maylie gives me an apologetic smile and gets to work.

For the next hour, the bar transforms. Tables and booths fill with men of all ages—a few women too—and the booze flows. Maylie and Bella work like whirlwinds, pouring drinks with practiced ease and then grabbing their trays to disappear into the shadows of the main floor. I’m starting to think I underestimated this place. It’s a lot busier than I expected it to be.

Every time she heads out, my gut knots, and I find myself watching Maylie closely as she moves through the crowd. She has an easy demeanour, a friendliness about her that lights up whenever she’s dealing with customers. That sunshine seems to radiate out of her, and I wonder how long it will be before she ends up like the rest of us, jaded and shattered.

I track her as she comes back towards the bar, sliding her tray onto the counter before she reaches for a cloth to clean it. The way she leans presses the globes of her arse against the material of the tiny hot pants she’s wearing, and all the blood rushes to my cock.

Shit, Mace. Get it together.

The smile she flashes me doesn’t help either, and I’m almost grateful she moves to the coffee machine, giving me her back… at least until she sways her hips to the music while she waits for it to brew.

She ain’t trying to be enticing, and she’s got no fuckin’ rhythm, but my gaze drifts to watch as her body moves. I have zero fucking idea why I’m into this, but fuck, I want to be behind her, holding her hips as she grinds her pert arse against me.

I’m so busy studying her that I jolt when she slides a mug onto the counter in front of me. I glance down at it, the smell of the coffee infusing my nose.

“Call it a peace offering.”

“For what?”

“We got off on the wrong foot. And I do believe you about Sam.”

I study her for a moment, trying to size up if all this shit is an act, but I don’t think it is. “You always fight other people’s battles?” I’m curious to find out everything I can about this girl… the good, the bad, and the ugly.

“I try not to, but I guess so. I know the guy’s not a saint, but he helped me when I was in a tricky spot.”

She feels like she owes him that loyalty. I can understand that.

“And coffee is how we get on the right foot?” I ask.

“No, coffee is how I take care of you.”

I lift my gaze to hers. No one has ever fucking tried to take care of me before, except Maggie and Nicky.

My throat feels tight as regret flashes in her eyes when I say nothing, too choked up to speak.

“I should’ve asked if you wanted one. Sorry. It was stupid to just assume. I mean, you might not even like coffee. I know some people don’t, though I’m going to be honest, I don’t really trust people who aren’t getting through the day caffeinated to the?—”

She reaches to take the mug away, and I wrap my fingers around her wrist. Her breath hisses between her teeth as I run my thumb over her pulse point, feeling the erratic throb beneath. I’m not sure if it’s her heart or mine racing.

“Thanks,” I rasp, which makes her shoulders relax a little.

“I didn’t know how you take it, so if you need milk and sugar, I can get you some.”

“Just sugar,” I tell her, but I’d drink it black if necessary. I ain’t fussy when it comes to this shit.

Her hand pulls free of mine, and to my annoyance, I lose her heat. Maylie gives me a look over her shoulder as she wanders to the machine, returning a moment later to hand me two sachets of sugar.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

I lower my head, focusing on the mug and emptying the sugar into it.

This girl is looking at me as if I’m going to be her knight in shining armour, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.

I’m not the hero. I’m the prick who kills that guy and takes the girl.