Page 55 of Mace

I fill the kettle with enough water for my usual two cups in the morning, and while it’s boiling, I slide the sleeve of my sweater up to examine the mottled bruising on my skin. It looks awful, and my wrist is swollen, even after icing it for two days.

Shit.I need to get back to work, but how am I going to do anything with the joint like this?

My thoughts scatter at the sound of someone knocking on the front door.

Instantly, my stomach swirls with panic. It could be one of Toby’s friends. It is Saturday morning, though they know better than to try and wake him this early. It could also be Bernie coming back with his offer to fuck him to cancel my debt.

The hope I hold onto is that it’s my sister, that somehow, she got away from Link and has come home.

I rush to the door, even as my heart thrums like the strings of a cello being plucked.

Be cautious, Maylie.

There are people who want to hurt you.

Carefully, I place my hands on the frame, rolling to my tiptoes so I can peer through the peephole in the middle of the door.

For a moment, I’m sure I’m seeing things, because there is no way in hell he’s here.

“Maylie? You in there?” His voice is like gravel over silk, and I realise I missed him these past few days.What is wrong with me?

I should keep quiet, pretend I’m not in, but my traitorous body wants to see him, so I slide back the chain before I even know I’m doing it.

Despite the early hour, he looks breathtakingly hot when he turns to the now open door. His shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, revealing the tattoos I’m starting to become familiar with, and as always, he’s wearing his leather vest he always has on his back.

His dark hair is tantalisingly long enough to run my fingers through, and they twitch with the need to do so.

“Mace…”

“Where the fuck have you been?” he demands. “Two fuckin’ shifts you’ve swapped out. Why?”

Oh, crap. Of course, he’d want to know why I ditched work, but I don’t want Toby to hear this conversation if he’s awake, so I step towards him, expecting him to back out into the hallway. He doesn’t move, so I bump into him, and his heated hands grasp my biceps.

Why does his touch make all my thoughts scatter?

“Step back,” I murmur, dizzied by his presence, and this time, he does move.

Once we’re clear of the door, I pull it closed behind me, staring at him with disbelief.

“I took a couple days off. I’ll be back on—” I break off. I don’t know when I’ll be back. “What are you doing here?” I demand, changing direction. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you, because I like to think we’re friends, but this is myhome, Mace. It’s kind of polite to ask before you just turn up.”

And I have a thousand problems to deal with, none of which involve my boss. “You didn’t show. I was worried.”

Why does that make my belly dip?

“You were?”

“Maylie, you lap danced for me because you were short on cash. You pitched a fit when I sent you home because you’d lose tips?—”

“I didn’t pitch a fit,” I mumble.

“—then you miss two shifts. Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never told you where I live, so turning up at my flat is veering into stalker territory. I’ve seen enough true crime documentaries to know this is how the crazy starts.”

His lips kick up slightly at the corners, and for some reason, that makes warmth blossom in my chest. He always seems so serious.

“You think I’m crazy, Maylie?”

---