Page 28 of Mace

“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… orbelongedto. 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 hairto 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 tomake 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.”

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