A Perfect Chance (4 page)

The fucker was right, but the last thing I needed in my life was another woman who had the power to bring me to my knees, or more specifically, whose death had the power to obliterate my heart and soul. Never a-fucking-gain. I ran my hand over my face, no longer caring about holding my mask in place. "Fuck. I'm totally screwed."

Diesel's laughter rang out around the bar. I picked up my bottle of beer, and he clinked his against it. "That you are, brother, that you are." He winked and took a deep pull of his beer.

Chapter Four

LENA

Nerves bubbled through my veins, settled in my stomach, and left me feeling like I was going to puke… or pee. Hell, there was a level of excitement there too that made me want to fist pump and do a girlie squeal. I could not for the life of me remember the last time I had squealed in excited anticipation.

Mace.

Holy cocking hell! I was going to be working for hot-as-hell moody and mysterious Mace.

The last thing I wanted was to be falling for a guy connected to my brother, not that Diesel would allow me the freedom to pursue such a thing, and of course, Mace had made it pretty damn clear he wasn't interested in me. Strike that, in any woman. And that was fine by me. Or at least, that was what I tried to convince myself.

I eagerly allowed my thoughts to be consumed by all things Mace. It was easier to be thinking about him, imagining what he would look like naked, what his lips would feel like. It was all so much easier than focusing on the bigger, terrifying reality of having a new job, in a new place, with new people.

I wanted it all. I'd begged my brother for his support, and he'd made it happen. When he'd told me he'd try to sort something, it had left me with a glimmer of hope, but I also wasn't expecting him to come through for me, or at least not so soon. He'd made it happen. My amazing, pig-headed, bloody brilliant, pain-in-the-arse brother was the best.

And the need to puke was back.

I breathed in deeply through my nose and held it for six seconds before breathing out. "Relax," I said aloud. I did this twice more, in and out in a six-second cycle
,
all in the desperate hope of regulating my breathing and eradicating my desire to vomit.

"You okay?"

I paused at five on my third loop of counting and flicked my gaze to Diesel. I hadn't realised we'd parked. Diesel sat in the driver seat with his body angled towards me. I nodded at him and smiled, hoping it didn't come out as a grimace.

"You've got this."

I loved him even more for not just offering me an out and giving me the chance to turn back. It would be too easy to accept such an offer.

I swallowed, a new, real smile forming. I sat up fully and turned towards him after unclipping my seat belt, ignoring my shaky hands. "I've got this," I repeated. We had made the journey together to Mace's office fourteen times before. Eight times I'd actually got out of the car and walked to the front door; only twice had I gripped Diesel, leaving my fingernail imprints behind. It was finally time to enter my new place of work. I knew Mace and Janie were inside. I also had seen photographs and video footage of each room in the building. That was all Janie's idea, to help me familiarise myself with the layout and the look.

We'd been doing this exercise over the last three weeks. During that time, I'd met with Janie, who was quickly becoming a good friend and someone I could rely on, and I'd also met with Mace and a couple of the guys he contracted in for security work regularly. Each meeting with Mace left me breathless but surprisingly at ease. For all his gruffness, he was a calm soul. I'd said as much to Diesel, who'd laughed his arse off and said he'd let Mace know. I threatened him with an array of colourful threats if he made good on that.

Mace had talked me through his job, my role, the office layout, and a whole heap of details. I'd hung on every word, sort of. Admittedly, I found it far too easy to concentrate on his lips as he spoke, only occasionally getting distracted by thoughts of their softness. Each time, he'd clear his throat, no doubt seeing my zoned-out expression.

He'd also started to touch me. I'd noticed it immediately. Hell, how could I not? The first time his hand had connected with my forearm, I'd jumped, but not for the reason he'd thought. I'd seen his pained look before he'd schooled his features, but the jump was a reaction to the zap of electricity that had buzzed through me at our connection. His palm had left heat in its wake and stirred to life a hive of activity in my belly, one that made me catch my breath and pray that he'd touch me again. He didn't that day. But with every meeting, he'd touch me more regularly. I'd begun to anticipate it in nervous excitement, trying carefully to control my reaction in fear that Mace would misread my reaction and avoid the contact.

While nobody had discussed every step of my transition into Mace's world, like his physical contact, I was savvy enough to know every word and touch were controlled. Mace filled that role easily. Apart from my brother, I'd never met another man who was as self-controlled as he, and that said a hell of a lot, considering my Deadwood family. He was the master of restraint. There hadn't been even a handful of times in the many years I'd known him where he'd dropped his guard. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever get to meet the real Mace.

Placing my hand on the door handle, I turned away from Diesel to see Mace striding towards the vehicle. My heart picked up speed, my eyes widening when I saw the determination in his. The door opened before I had the chance to do it myself and his hand appeared in the open doorway. I expected to hesitate, but before I realised what I'd actually done, I was staring at my palm sitting securely in his. Rightness settled through me, calming me. I stepped out of the car as his hand tightened around my own. My eyes reconnected with his and I smiled. He offered a rare grin back, momentarily taking my breath away. His usually stoic face brightened and his cheeks dimpled just a fraction.

Damn, I was in serious trouble. With a smile like that, I had no idea how I'd keep my vajayjay in my panties. I shook the thoughts from my head, becoming aware that I was standing still, hand in his and staring at him. The last thing I needed, or my brother needed, was for me to get involved with someone as complicated as Mace. I knew some of Mace's story, his history, and it was heartbreaking. He was everything that I wasn't looking for.

Admittedly, he was a fine specimen of man, so perhaps “everything” was pushing it, but I had my own emotional crap and a head full of shit to deal with. Mace was drowning in his own darkness. I knew it so well that it was impossible not to recognise. If I delved deeper, I may find a kindred spirit. I knew enough about my own sanity to know that he wouldn't be healthy for me. I was too broken and trying desperately to repair myself. There was no room in my life for more pain.

Despite the onslaught of sensibility, my hand remained firmly connected to his. Without a word, he tugged lightly and ushered me towards his office. I barely registered the driver door opening and closing, and footfalls following us closely. Nor did I falter when I crossed over the threshold hand in hand with Mace.

I took in my surroundings. Warmth pressed against my palm and travelled up my arm, maintaining my quiet mind. There was nothing out of place from the footage or photographs, and I found myself grinning when I looked at what was to be my desk, complete with stacked paperwork that teetered on the edge of collapse.

Mace led me through to his office space, and I reached out and touched different items and pieces of furniture as I passed; his chair, his desk, the computer screen. I paused when I came across a frame on his desk I didn't recognise.

Mace stopped and reached around me, his hand not releasing mine. He picked up the frame. "This is Abi, my beautiful niece." I didn't need to look at him to know he wore a smile of affection. The warmth in his voice was pure and real. I glanced up at him anyway, unable to pass up the opportunity to see another smile. I wasn't disappointed.

Looking between the frame and me, he handed me the photo. Mace held a cute baby girl, not more than a few months old. She was fast asleep, her cheek resting against his shoulder. Mace was peering down at her, his lips pressed reverently against her head. If there was ever a photograph that was able to capture a moment of love, this was it. It blew my reaction to his smile out of the water. That precious image showed me something I wouldn’t have thought I would ever witness with Mace. He was at peace. There was no haunted look visible, no stress tightening his eyes.

"It's beautiful," I whispered. "You're beautiful." I froze, realising what had fallen from my mouth. Before I had the chance to screw it up any more and feebly attempt to backtrack, Diesel called out to us from the reception area.

"You guys good in there?"

I hadn't even realised Diesel wasn't in the same room as us. A double whammy of relief hit me. He hadn't heard my mouth fart, plus he gave me a reason to ignore my blunder and head out of the room. I placed the frame on Mace's desk and released his hand, heading for the safety of my brother. While I felt the loss of our connection, my humiliation drove me forward.

Diesel looked at me closely and lifted a brow. I offered a tight smile. "What's wrong?" he asked. I knew my cheeks burned brightly.

"Just excited," I covered, "and surprisingly not overwhelmed." I spoke the truth, my smile loosening and lips tipping fully and honestly. I looked at Janie when she stepped towards me, her grin mirroring my own. Her plan to help ease my way into this role had surprised the hell out of me. It was working. I wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you," I whispered. I wasn't cured. There was no magic fix, but being able to stand tall, not collapsing and panicking even after my verbal diarrhoea was a huge win.

Hugging me back, Janie kissed my cheek before stepping back. "How about you take a seat in your chair at your new desk? We'll step outside while Mace heads into his office. How do you feel about fifteen minutes to familiarise yourself with your space?"

I nodded. I could do fifteen minutes. This space would be another safe place. I was determined to make it work. "Okay." I nodded.

Janie ushered a hesitant Diesel out the front door after I offered him a reassuring smile. I made my way to my desk and sat down, taking a few deep breaths as I did so. Becoming aware of a presence, I looked up at Mace's open doorway to find him hovering there, looking uncertain.

"Erm." He brushed his fingers through his hair and my gaze followed the movement. I was so easily distracted by this man. "So I'll just be in here, right?"

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, not sure I could trust my voice not to give my lusty thoughts or even my excitement away. I nodded.

His gaze flicked to my mouth before landing once more on my own. "Right. Okay." Hell, his nervousness was something new. "You remember what to do if you need me?"

Work questions, I could do this. Yanked out of my dirty thoughts, I answered, "Zero on the phone, silent alarm under my desk to my right, a shoulder width away,"—I reached down to check, my fingers brushing lightly over the smooth plastic panic alarm—"or if all else fails, holler."

"Right. So I'll leave my door open. It's rare that it's closed. It'll also help you to get used to the different noises."

My eyes widened. Mace really had thought about everything it seemed. I knew he'd met with Janie, but so far he'd handled everything with such thoughtful precision and knowledge that I couldn't help but wonder if he'd done a heap of research himself on how best to handle a woman like me. My heart melted a little more.

"Thank you, Mace." I pushed all the sincerity I could into those three words. There were very few people in this world who would go above and beyond to help a virtual stranger to cope. While he and Diesel were tight, he had no real allegiance to the club. He wasn't a pledged member of the Deadwood MC. I couldn't help but wonder why he was helping me in the first place, but it wasn't the time to ask.

He nodded, offered me a quirk of his lips, and disappeared into his office.

Once alone, I looked around. I could handle this space. I then looked at the mountain of paperwork and almost happy danced. I would be so busy over the coming weeks organising Mace's dishevelled office, there would be no room for distraction or time to allow me to overthink my situation, and when I'd finally got on top of everything, I was convinced I would be in a good place. It was perfect. I owed my brother, and Mace, big for this. I'd find a way to make it up to both of them.

The fifteen minutes whizzed by phenomenally fast. I'd only just finished opening and closing every drawer in my desk and then the filing cabinet when Janie and Diesel re-entered. The chime before they opened the door alerted me to their presence, something Mace had had fitted so I would never be startled by someone entering the reception. He'd also had a Perspex divider fitted in front of my desk, something similar to what you'd find in a bank, ensuring I had physical distance between myself and everyone who entered. Between the three of them, they'd made sure I was as comfortable as I could possibly be. As I mulled over such while watching them enter, a pang of guilt hit me. Diesel was the only blood family I had left, and while we loved each other fiercely, I couldn't help but feel regret for how my anxiety impacted on his life.

Over the years, he'd rarely dated. He put that down to being too busy in the club and running their multiple businesses, but I knew that wasn't the whole truth. So much of his spare time was spent with me, ensuring I was okay. It left little room for a relationship. I was aware of three dates my anxiety had wrecked for him. There could have been more, but he'd never admit to it.

"Don't." Diesel's deep voice startled me. It was firm.

I swallowed back my emotion. He knew me so damn well, knew the guilt I battled with constantly. It was time to beat this once and for all. I'd been in survival mode since it happened and had become far too comfortable accepting my current existence as my reality and my future. I would no longer accept that, and this job was the beginning. I would no longer allow my guilt or my anxiety to swallow me whole. I was ready to fight, to take the fuckers by the balls and take control of my own life.