Mace (Untamed Sons MC: Birmingham Chapter #1)

8. Maylie

EIGHT

MAYLIE

Music pulses through the floor, vibrating my bones as the spotlights flick around the room. I don’t know the song, but I sway my hips in time to the heavy bass as I pour a line of shots on my tray.

I’m acutely aware of Mace sitting at the end of the bar, where he’s been perched for the last three shifts I’ve worked. He’s barely said two words to me all night, but his hands are wrapped around the can of Coke I gave him an hour ago.

I don’t know what to make of him, but he’s an easy distraction from the shit going on in the rest of my life. Ivy hasn’t been home since I confronted her about Link, though she has at least messaged me to tell me she’s alive.

Small mercies, I guess.

Toby’s been staying between friends for the last few nights, but that can’t continue indefinitely. I’m going to have to leave him alone at some point and just hope he’ll be okay.

But that’s a problem for Future Maylie .

Right now, Present Maylie is enjoying the view at the end of the bar.

Casting covert looks in his direction as I move around the back of the counter, I try to figure him out, but I can’t. There’s this gruff, scary exterior to him, and a darkness that honestly scares me a little, but there’s something else too. Something I want to bring out of him.

A roar of excitement goes up, and I lift my gaze towards the stage in time to see Candy letting her bra slip down her arms to reveal her dusty pink nipples.

Candy’s set is always the one that gets the customers acting feral. The wig she’s wearing tonight is platinum blonde and curled in loose beachy waves down to the dip at the base of her spine. The pleated skirt covering her thong is so tiny, I can see the apex between her thighs. It’s a look designed to stop men in their tracks, and it does.

“That’s my cue to get out there,” Bella yells to be heard over the music as she moves to the end of the bar and grabs a tray.

I don’t know what the correlation is between seeing boobs and buying drinks, but as soon as there’s a hint of nipple, money gets flashed around. It isn’t only the dancers who benefit from this but also the servers, which means I need to be out there too.

Bella has disappeared into the shadows of the room the next time I glance up, so I pick up my pace, careful not to spill anything as I add the final two drinks.

Time to get my arse moving.

I risk glancing at Mace again, but his attention is on his phone as he swipes his fingers across the screen. His heavy frown tells me whatever he’s seeing isn’t a good thing.

Not my circus, and my own monkeys are running rampant .

Pushing Mace out of my mind, I grab the tray and sashay towards my section, rolling my hips in a seductive motion as I walk. The black hot pants barely cover me while the tight tank top shows off every single curve, including the mounds of my breasts. I hated wearing this for the first month I was employed, but I reasoned I’d wear less on the beach than I am now.

But no one at the beach has ever grabbed my boobs or asked me to fuck them in the toilets.

I drop off the drinks before I sidle around tables, moving through the closely packed room to scan my section.

I locate my next target—a table of seven on a stag weekend. They’re trashed and have probably had far too much already, but I think I can get another tray of drinks out of them… and hopefully, a good tip.

I stop at the table, and a hand slides up the back of my thigh. Getting groped at work is an occupational hazard, and at first, it bothered me, but I’ve learned the best way to defuse these kinds of situations is to step aside, which forces him to drop his hand.

“If one of the bouncers sees you touching me, they’ll kick you out, and that’s going to ruin your night,” I warn.

His smirk is cheeky, but also something else. Eager to chance his luck, maybe.

“The only thing that’ll ruin my night, sweetheart, is you not giving me your number.”

Even if this guy was the most attractive man on the planet, I wouldn’t risk my job for a quick fumble. Would he be so eager to get in my pants if he knew I had zero experience with men?

They assume because I work here and dress the way I do that I’m some kind of sex goddess between the sheets. They would laugh if they knew I’ve never been touched before.

Mace would laugh too.

“How about I get you another drink instead?”

This guy isn’t much older than I am, and although he has the daft grin of someone who has drank far more than he should, my instincts warn me to be careful.

I’ve become pretty good at working out who is dangerous and who is harmless, but this guy falls somewhere in the middle, which means this interaction could go either way… and that makes him more deadly. I don’t like unpredictability.

His eyes are heavy as he takes me in, dropping to my breasts and openly ogling them. Perve .

“I didn’t bank on you playing hard to get, sweetheart. Figured all you girls would be gagging for it.” He grabs his cock through his pants as he says it, and my stomach turns inside out.

Gross.

One thing this job has taught me is that some men—particularly those who come here—are pigs.

“I’m not playing games, and I don’t give out my phone number.”

The easy way he leans back in his chair, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, has me wondering if this guy has ever heard the word ‘no’. His entire group gives me that vibe.

“Oh, come on, darlin’. Let me take you back to my hotel. I’ll give you the best night of your life. I’ll shove my cock so hard into your cunt, you’ll feel me for a week.”

Those words spoken into my ear freeze my blood, but not as much as his friends beginning to take interest in what’s happening. My pulse spikes as I lift my gaze, scanning the room for Steve or one of the other guys, but they’re dealing with what looks like trouble in Bella’s section.

Shit.

“Easy there, Casanova.”

Without warning, he pulls me into his lap, his arm banding around my waist like a clamp. I drop my tray, losing it in the shadows between the tables.

Shit, shit, shit.

I can’t even see Steve or Archie anymore. Everyone nearby is focused on Candy gliding around the pole on stage, not on the man holding me prisoner against his body.

“Okay, big guy, time to let go. I have to get back to work.” He doesn’t listen, his hold stopping my lungs from working properly.

I’m on my own, and there is no way I’m letting this asshat assault me. I tear at Casanova’s arms, no doubt leaving deep scratches in his skin, but he doesn’t release his hold on me as his nose nuzzles into the crook of my neck and his fingers squeeze my breast.

I stop breathing, and my mouth dries as my heart skitters behind my ribs. Then I find my voice.

“Get off me!” I scream the words, even though I know they won’t be heard over the pulsing bass. We’re far enough from the stage to be hidden from the lights, and I’m not sure anyone can even see me in his lap.

Where the hell is Steve, or Archie, or anyone?

He grabs my nape in an iron-clad grasp that has me sucking in a breath. “Stop playing hard to get, you dirty little slut,” he growls in my ear, and I let out a cry of pain as his grip tightens on my neck, forcing my head forward.

My breath is loud in my ears as I fight to get free, but he’s immovable, and I’m too fucking weak.

Casanova releases his hold on me suddenly, and I fling myself off his lap, stumbling into a nearby table, my knees almost scraping the floor as I gasp.

Holding the back of my aching neck, I turn, and my stomach hollows out. Mace is standing behind my attacker, his fingers fisted into Casanova’s hair. He drags his head so far back, his watering eyes are forced to the ceiling.

Mace’s expression is a mask of fury as he snarls down at the man who, moments ago, seemed so dangerous. He’s the one who looks weak now.

Wrapping my arms around my churning belly, I meet Mace’s gaze as he lifts his eyes to me, and they soften fractionally as he takes me in.

Then, without warning, he slams my attacker’s face into the table in front of him.

The table filled with half-empty glasses and bottles.

My stomach lurches as something sprays across the top of it—blood, I realise—and when Mace pulls him up like a ragdoll, there’s glass embedded in his cheek.

I draw in a breath as trails of red stream down Casanova’s face like bloodied tears, but Mace isn’t done. He smacks him into the table again, and bile rises up my throat as Mace’s dangerous side that Steve had warned me about is there, right in front of me.

Mace is calm even in the face of his anger, and unrelenting in his attack.

I stumble back as the table upends, sending shards across the floor. The guys behind me come out of their seats as Mace drags my attacker up so he can ram a fist into his gut.

Casanova’s friends seem to break out of whatever trance they were in, and two of them—one clutching a broken bottle—find their courage to lunge at Mace.

“Mace, behind you,” I scream, and he twists in time to grab the guy’s wrist as he brings his arm down in an arc, intending to hit Mace with the jagged edges of the glass.

My heart is in my throat as Mace fights them like he’s trained for this moment his entire life. He is a machine, moving with a fluidity that allows him to attack and defend in equal measure.

Then Steve and the others are suddenly here, and Mace has backup as the guys drag the entire group from the floor and out across the room to the main doors.

Someone touches my arm, and I spin to protect myself, until I realise it’s Bella.

She pulls me away, herding us back towards the bar, and I stumble on unsteady feet as I try to keep sight of Mace. He’s watching me with a dark glare on his face, his chest heaving.

A deadly avenger.

“What the hell just happened?” Bella demands as she forces my attention forwards.

She doesn’t take me to the bar but through the staff door and to what used to be Sam’s office.

It doesn’t look any different, but my eyes roll around the space all the same until she pushes me into a chair. The base of my neck is burning, and as my adrenaline flees, my hands tremble.

“Are you okay?” she asks, bending down in front of the mini fridge in the corner and grabbing an ice pack from the freezer compartment.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

I pull the wig off my head, tossing it onto the desk in front of me. My scalp instantly feels relief, even though my natural hair is still tied up. I probe around the painful area, wincing as I squeeze my eyes shut. That’s going to bruise.

“Here.” She hands me the ice pack wrapped in a hand towel, and I guide it to the back of my neck, hissing as the cold hits my skin.

Bella crouches in front of me, shooting me a sympathetic look. “That should never have happened.”

It shouldn’t have, but it’s the first time anything like that ever has. Sure, guys get handsy, and they get goofy when they’ve had a skinful, but no one has ever grabbed me like that with such violent intent in their eyes. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t unsettled by it.

“At least it’s only my neck. I can hide any bruising.” The attempt at levity falls flat.

“Those bikers have been in charge for less than a week, and you’ve already been assaulted. This would never have happened under Sam.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die on my lips as the door swings open. Bella goes to her feet, as if she’s ready to defend us… at least until she sees who it is. Mace fills the doorway with his presence, and when his gaze locks onto mine, my heart stutters.

“Out,” he growls at Bella.

“What? No, I’m not leaving her alone.” She doesn’t say the ‘with you’ but it hangs between us anyway.

“It’s okay,” I tell her, sensing Mace might not be so kind in his response .

She grumbles under her breath but leaves with a final glance back at me.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, but then he eats up the space between us in a handful of strides. I brace for whatever is coming next, unsure what’s about to happen.

His nostrils flare as he pulls the ice pack off my neck, and as his fingers skim over my skin, I swear I hold my breath.

“Fuck,” he grinds out at whatever he sees.

“Is it bad?” I ask, wishing there was a mirror so I could look myself.

“You hurt anywhere else?” He ignores my question, which doesn’t help my feeling of unease.

“No. I’m fine. I can go back to work.”

I try to stand. His hand on my shoulder is gentle but insistent as he pushes me back into the chair. “That ain’t happening.”

Great. Another shift, another loss of earnings. I’m a positive person, but this is starting to feel personal. “I don’t need to be coddled, Mace. I want to work.”

He dips his head, and the hardness in his eyes is a little scary. “You just got assaulted right in front of me, Maylie. Do you think I’m gonna let you head back out there like nothing happened?”

Is he worried I’m going to cause trouble over this? “Nothing did happen. You stopped it from getting out of hand. Everything’s?—”

“If you say ‘fine’, I’ll lose my mind,” he mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Nothing about this is fucking fine.”

The door opens again and Steve slips in, his expression contrite and a little broken as he takes me in. “Shit, May, I’m sorry. We were dealin’ with another incident and?—”

Mace grabs him around the throat, and my eyes flare as I launch up to my feet. Am I wobbling? It doesn’t matter. Stopping Mace from hurting Steve is all I care about.

Mace has other ideas, though. He shoves the bigger guy against the wall with so much violence, the shelving unit next to him rocks back and forth, almost spilling its load on the carpet.

“You left Maylie defenceless. If I hadn’t been there?—”

His fist rams into Steve’s gut so hard, I swear I feel the reverberation of it through the air around us.

“Mace, stop !” When he doesn’t, I grab his bicep and try to pull him back. He doesn’t move so much as an inch. Shit, this man is strong. Once again, I’m reminded how weak I actually am. I can’t stop him, so I do the only thing I can—I beg. “Please! Enough! Just stop!”

I don’t know if it’s my plea or the tone of my voice that gets through to him, but he snaps his head towards me, focusing his attention in my direction. Any hope I have that I might be able to reason with him is swiftly dispersed as his gaze drops to my neck and his eyes become stormy.

“You’re gonna bruise,” he growls, like it’s a personal affront that I got hurt on his watch.

I don’t know why he cares so much, but despite the chaos of the situation, I feel something warm spreading through my belly. It’s been so long since someone gave a shit about me. I’m always so busy taking care of everyone else.

“It’s not his fault,” I choke the words out, my voice thick. “These things happen sometimes.”

His eyes narrow. “This has happened before?” The way he grinds the words tells me my answer is going to determine how the rest of this conversation goes.

I dart my gaze towards Steve, who is statue-still, just as he was when the other biker grabbed him around the throat the first night the Sons took over Temptation. The fact he doesn’t fight back doesn’t feel like a positive.

“No. Never,” I say. It’s not a lie, so I give the assurance easily. “The guys take good care of us. This was just… shitty bad luck. Please let go of him.”

Mace’s lip curls up into a snarl, but to my relief, he does release Steve, stepping away from him. I position myself in front of the man my friend loves, even though I would be helpless if they decided to fight.

“Your fuckin’ job is to keep her safe.” Mace’s words are like carved stone.

“I know,” Steve says, and I hear the guilt threading through his words. “I’m not makin’ excuses, but I had three of my guys on the main floor dealin’ with an altercation.”

“You’re blamin’ this on fuckin’ staffing issues?”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“Mace, it’s not his fault, and I’m fine. You saved me.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off Steve, and I can see that storm in his eyes getting moodier. “I’m taking you home,” he declares.

For a moment, I think he’s talking to Steve, but then he turns to me. “What? No! I don’t want to go home. I’m perfectly fine. I can work?—”

“Ain’t up for debate.”

He reaches for me, but I tear back, irritation flaring through me. “When you’re losing me money, it is up for debate,” I snap at him. “I have things to pay for, Mace. I can’t keep losing shifts.”

His expression softens slightly, and I don’t know if he understands my perspective or if he just feels sorry for me. I don’t care which, but I’m not going home. As it is, my tips are going to be less after the entire floor witnessed Mace going nuclear. There’s a line between seeming available and being available. The customers need to believe the former for the money to flow to us.

“What would you usually earn?”

I blink at him. “What?”

“How much?” he presses, and I glance at Steve, who is watching Mace with a steely look on his face.

“I don’t… why?”

“Maylie,” he drags out my name, emphasizing the ‘lee’ as if he’s talking to a stubborn toddler. “Just tell me.”

“I don’t know. Anywhere between fifty pounds and a hundred. It depends on who comes?—”

He pulls out his wallet and hands me a stack of notes, which I stare at like a live bomb. “I’m not taking your money, and I’m not going home.”

The way he steps into my space makes my pulse quicken, and despite my irritation, I hold my breath. What would it feel like to kiss him, or to be kissed by him? My eyes drop to his mouth, imagining the feel of it against my lips.

He dips his head towards me, and my body freezes. Is he… is he going to kiss me? I was just letting my mind run riot, but he’s moving closer and?—

“You got hurt at a club business.” He’s inches from my face. “That means something to me. We take care of our own. ”

My stomach sinks. He’s taking care of me because I’m an employee, not because he wants to. The realisation unsettles something deeply unpleasant in my chest. “Right. Of course.” I take the money and awkwardly smile at him. “Thank you for helping me tonight.”

His hand moves to the side of my face, and his palm sears where he cups my cheek. “Get your shit. I’ll take you home.”

Defeated, and knowing there’s no point in arguing, I head to the changing room, and as soon as I enter, the girls rush me, bombarding me with questions. I answer with my usual brand of fake smiles and lies about being fine before opening my locker. The money Mace gave me feels heavy in my hand, but I stuff the notes in my bag before changing into my joggers and trainers.

As I reach for my sweater, my hands tremble. Fuck. I curl my fingers, my nails biting into my palms.

What if Mace hadn’t been here? How far would things have gotten? The man’s threats had been disgusting and filled me with a cold sense of dread.

When I leave the changing room and make my way back onto the main floor, I expect to see Mace sitting at the end of the bar, but he’s not there, and I feel a mix of relief and dismay. The last thing I want is for him to take me home.

The show of violence doesn’t seem to have impacted the remaining patrons, who are settled in to watch the next dancer take the stage. Some of the guys are cleaning up the mess that was made, but otherwise, it’s business as usual.

Shaking myself, I head to the front doors, but Bella calls my name from behind the bar, so I wait for her to jog over to me .

She pulls me into an embrace the moment she’s close enough, and my heart lurches at the show of care. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” My expression is tight as I pull back. “Mace is sending me home.”

“Good. I think that’s the right thing to do.” She glances around, even though we’re alone on this side of the room. “Steve asked around, and they’re hiring at one of the clubs in town. Do you want me to get you an application?”

I should want that, considering how tonight played out, but…

“One shitty incident doesn’t mean we need to leave, Bella. That could’ve happened just as easily under Sam.”

She glances around again and leans into me. “The Sons are dangerous, Maylie. Mace proved how ruthless they are tonight.”

I bristle at her words. “Mace kept me safe. That man assaulted me, Bella.”

She grimaces, sympathy playing in her eyes. “I know you like him, but you can’t. He’s not someone you get involved with, May. Find a nice guy, one who works a nine-to-five and comes home every night talking about his boring job.”

Am… am I telegraphing that I like Mace? Does he know?

I snort to cover my embarrassment. “I have zero interest in dating Mace.” Little liar. “Or anyone else, for that matter. I’ve got enough problems with my sister to even consider a relationship.”

Mace wouldn’t want me anyway. He’s only so overbearing because he’s protecting his asset—the bar. No employer wants to risk being sued.

“What’s going on with your sister? ”

Damn. Why the hell did I tell her that? Now, she’s going to want answers, and I’m not ready to share my failures. I force a smile, something I seem to be doing a lot of lately. When was the last time I genuinely smiled? “You know, typical teen shit. It’s just that… I’m barely older than her, and she doesn’t want to listen anymore. I can’t even say I blame her for that, but it’s just… it’s making things difficult at home.”

That is the understatement of the century. Things are unbearable. I can’t stand not knowing where she is and if she’s safe.

“Ivy loves you, she’ll come around.” I highly doubt that. “Do you want me to call you a taxi?”

Even though I would love nothing more than to climb into the back of a car and be chauffeured home, it’s money I don’t have. Mace’s money is tucked in my bag, but that’s going towards paying Bernie so he doesn’t evict us.

“Thanks, but I got it. I better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Slinging my bag onto my shoulder, I head out before Mace can stop me and demand I take his offered ride.

I bypass Archie, who is arguing with someone in the queue, and make a quick escape so I don’t have to explain to him what happened. As I walk, my thoughts are distracted by a tall, dangerous biker and the way he looked when he slammed that man’s head into the table full of glass.

Mace hadn’t hesitated to hurt him.

And he didn’t care after the fact that the man was bleeding. I should be horrified by what he did, but I’m not, and that makes me question everything about myself.