Page 3 of Mac (Demented Souls #7)

M ac tried to focus on the rumble of the bike beneath him as he headed to the clubhouse.

He'd spent hours trying to relax and keep his mind off the hot woman next door and the sexy underwear that had been delivered to him by accident.

No. He hadn't seen the underwear, but that only made what he imagined worse.

He could think up anything he wanted and there was nothing to tell him he was wrong.

He almost wished he'd taken a peek, at least then he'd know what to picture her in.

Trying to keep himself from going next door, knocking and kissing the shit out of her.

And probably landing himself with assault charges in the process, or at the very least a black eye, he'd decided tonight wasn't the night to stay home.

Instead, he went to the clubhouse. Maybe there was something going on there to distract him.

Hell, maybe Linda or Double D would be up for a quick tumble.

He rode through town, wondering what the woman next door did.

He'd never asked her name, but the label on the package had read Elyse Porter.

Somehow, Elyse seemed to fit her. A little old fashioned, but a little exotic too.

Mac gave his head a slight shake and turnedhis attention back to the road.

He had to be careful this time of night or he'd end up as a hood ornament for some idiot in an Audi.

He rolled his shoulders and took the last turn before rollingto a stop in the yard of the clubhouse.

He walked his bike backward into line with the others and went inside.

Mac stood for a moment a few steps inside the room, scanning to see who was there and what was going on.

"What can I get for you?" a soft voice drew his attention. He glanced over at Jailbait and blinked before shaking his head.

"Give me a bottle of Jack and a couple glasses." He didn't know if he was going to share or not yet, but he'd be ready if someone wanted to join him. Besides, two glasses made him look like a little less of a lush.

"No problem. You going to sit down here, or you want it up in your room?" She smiled back without any judgement on the face that made her look way younger than she was.

"I'll sit down here."

"No problem. Take a seat and I'll bring it out as soon as I have everything ready." She spun on her heel and walked away, leaving Mac to wonder what you had to get ready for a bottle of whiskey and a pair of glasses. He shook his head, went to an empty table and pulled out a chair.

"Thought you were going to take a night off?"

The voice made him look up before he could sit. Tuck, the club president stood on the other side of the table, watching him.

"I planned to, but something came up. I decided to come see what was going on here.

" Mac eased himself into his seat. All day on his feet made them ache and he wanted to get off them.

He'd spent years as a mechanic, but it seemed the years were catching up with him.

Every year he seemed to ache a little more.

Barked knuckles and bangs and bruises he could ignore.

He'd had plenty of practice, but his hands had started to throb in the last few years, and over the last few months he'd noticed he had a hard time turning bolts that he was convinced he never would have had trouble with before.

He didn't know what was wrong, but he suspected years of turning a wrench were starting to catch up with him.

"Want to talk about it?" Tuck pulled out a chair and sat across the table. The silver half-dollar he kept in his kutte pocket appeared and flashed across the backs of his knuckles.

A vision of his neighbor blinked in Mac's mind and he shook his head.

How did he tell his president he couldn't sit at home because the temptation to go next door and kiss the shit out of his neighbor, or worse, keep his mouth plastered over hers so she couldn't protest as he hauled her to bed.

He shook his head again. No, it was best if he didn't share that.

"I'll take that as a no. Want a little distraction?"

"What do you have in mind?" Tuck was closest guy to Mac's age in the Souls.

At one point they'd been the youngest together.

It had left them with a relationship a little different than what most of the Souls had with their president.

Now, they weren't the oldest in the club, they still had several brothers who were older.

Who might be called founders if they went that far, but with a club like theirs, they didn't point them out.

"I don't know. We could find a game or a match to watch.

" He tilted his head toward several TVs mounted to the walls in one corner of the large room.

"Or we could get Linda to dance for us." Tuck shot a pointed look at the whore who spent most of her time hanging around the clubhouse looking for someone to buy her a drink or give her enough cash to find a high.

Mac took one glance in her direction and all he could think of was how she wasn't Elyse and didn't even begin to compare. Without saying why, he looked back to Tuck and shook his head.

"We could play a game if you want."

"What you have in mind?"

Tuck glanced around the room. There were a few other brothers, but they were clustered together in groups of two or three, or paired off with a woman, whether a whore or one they considered their own, and absorbed in them. "Gin, cribbage, anything but go fish."

Despite his mood, Mac chuckled. Somehow Tuck usually managed to pull him from whatever funk he'd sunk into, and usually with only a few words.

"I'm in. Whatever you want. But go fish would be fun."

Jailbait appeared beside the table, setting a bottle and two glasses in the middle. "Here you are. Can I get you anything else?"

"How about a deck of cards?" Tuck asked.

"No problem." She spun away before Mac could say anything more.

"You planning on someone else?" Tuck gave the pair of glasses a pointed look.

"No." He didn't bother to explain. Could he come up with an answer that didn't sound stupid? He wasn't sure and he wasn't going to try. Instead, he picked up the bottle, opened it and cocked one brow at his president in silent question.

"Sure, why not?"

Mac poured a couple fingers of Jack into one glass then a little more than that in the second.

He set the bottle on the table and picked up the fuller glass and took a sip.

When he glanced up at Tuck, he found the other man watching him with both brows raise, as if asking what was up.

Mac ignored it and took another drink. There was no way he was telling his friend that the hot young thing next door had him at the edge of his control, and all she'd done was answer the door and be nice.

"Here you are." Jailbait saved him from too much uncomfortable silence as she set a deck of cards on the table, along with a small note pad and a pencil. "Wasn't sure if you'd want those so I brought them just in case. Anything else?"

"I'm good," Mac said with a shake of his head as he reached for the cards.

"You already eaten?" Tuck asked as Mac slid the cards from the box.

"Yeah. I'm good."

"Want me to fix you something?" Jailbait offered with a smile.

Tuck watched her for several seconds, glanced at Mac, then back to Jailbait. "I wouldn't argue if someone else wants something but don't cook just for me."

"How about something sweet?" Jailbait asked, then she leaned close and spoke in a quiet voice. "I happen to know there's some mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer."

Tuck closed his eyes for a couple seconds than nodded. "I'll take some of that."

"Bowl or glass?"

Mac had to smile. He was long used to their president's odd way of eating ice cream, and it looked like Jailbait had caught on too. Tuck sighed.

"I'll have a glass," his gaze flicked to Mac, "you want some?"

"I'm good with this tonight." He shuffled the cards and nodded to his glass of whiskey.

"I'll have that right out." Jailbait hurried away.

"She's really taken to the job." Tuck shook his head. "Gizmo's right. If we put the new guy in as a bartender, like we usually do, we need to put her in charge of the place."

"Has Dumbass seen the way she caters to you?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. It's not been anything big, or anything different than she does for the other brothers. She takes good care of us but treats him even better and doesn't act different when he's around. She's not trying to move up, if that’s what you mean."

"Good." Mac rolled his shoulders and glanced at Tuck. "What are we playing?"

Tuck blinked. "How about gin?"

Mac didn't respond, just started dealing. "The last thing we need is brother against brother, especially fighting over a piece of ass."

"I get you, but I wouldn't let Dumbass hear you call his girl a piece of ass. She might have been once, but it's been a while since she's gone with anyone who asked. Even before Dumbass was patched." Tuck fell silent as he watched the cards.

"That's part of why you delayed patching him in, isn't it? To see how things went between the two of them and with the rest of the brothers?"

"That was part of it. Not all, but part." Tuck picked up his cards and sorted them. They played in silence for a few minutes, each sipping their drink as they drew and discarded in turn. Tuck had just laid down his hand when Jailbait appeared with his ice cream.

"Here, let me have them, I'll shuffle while you eat.

" Mac took the cards and shuffled absently while the president dug into his ice cream.

Taking mercy on his friend, Mac dealt the hand, backwards so cards fell as if Tuck had dealt, then picked up his own hand while Tuck set his glass on the table and picked up his cards.

They played into the night, Mac continuing to drink, until he knew there was no way he could ride home. Which had been his goal tonight. He wanted to make sure he had to spend the night here, so no matter how tempting it was, he couldn't go back to his neighbor's house and knock.

As he made his way up the stairs to his room, Mac wondered how she might react should he do exactly as he was tempted. Maybe she didn't have someone.

No.

He shook his head. Someone as hot as his neighbor was definitely attached.

M ac spent the next day working, thoughts of his neighbor occasionally sneaking into his mind, but between a tow truck blowing a tire and a shipment of the wrong parts, he'd had enough to deal with it hadn't been difficult to push those thoughts away and keep going.

By the time he called it a day, changed out of his greasy work shirt and headed out, he didn't have the energy left to fight the direction of his thoughts.

He let images of his sexy neighbor run through his mind as he made the drive back to his house.

He thought about knocking on her door and inviting her out.

But where would he take her? What did he have to offer a sweet young thing like her?

He was just an old mechanic with a group of brothers that most people didn't look too well upon.

None of that had ever bothered him. He liked his jobs, both as a mechanic and as a member of the US Marshals working to clean up the worst of the criminals and keep his country, and its people, safe.

He'd had a few flings with women over the years, but none of them had been nearly as hot as his neighbor.

Mac eased his bike down the residential street, noticing as he passed that her car wasn't in the driveway, then pulling into his own, and into the garage, without stopping.

He couldn't help but be relieved she wasn't home.

He was saved the temptation of knowing she was there.

That all he had to do to see her again, was to go knock on her door.

Then again, maybe if he did, if she were home, her boyfriend would be there, and Mac could know she was taken and put her out of his mind.

He shook his head and pushed her out of his mind again as he let himself in through the laundry room, setting his helmet on the washer on his way through.

In the bedroom he tugged his t-shirt off over his head and tossed it in the laundry basket, then unbuckled his belt.

As he pulled the belt free, he caught the holster that had been resting inside his jeans and set it, with the Browning .

45 ACP inside, on top of the dresser as he finished undressing.

Mac didn't normally come in from work and head straight to the shower, but he'd been sprayed with gasoline today and could still smell it on his skin and in his hair.

It wasn't his favorite cologne, but he'd smelled a lot worse.

Still, a hot shower would get rid of the gas along with the spots of grease he tended to pick up through the day, and hopefully ease his sore, aching muscles.

Maybe tonight he'd get to kick back and relax without having to flee to the clubhouse for a distraction.

An image of Elyse, for that's how he'd begun to think of her, flashed through his mind.

Maybe the clubhouse wasn't such a bad idea after all.