Page 15 of Mace

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 browstight, 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.”

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