Page 33 of Mace
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 shardsacross 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 ofthe 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.