Page 12 of Broken
Chapter Six
Max
I walk Izzy into Ambrosia, the strip club the MC opened, and there is something in me saying that this is a terrible idea. I’ve been in here plenty of times as security and the men in here are real assholes. I honestly don’t even want them looking at Izzy much less if one of them tries to touch her. The fact that this thought has me clenching my fists isn’t lost on me.
I hate how she affects me. When I saw her get up from the table at lunch I knew that something had upset her. The restaurant is almost all glass and even from the street it was hard to keep my eyes off of her. Before I knew it I was out of the truck and determined to find her. I wanted to take away whatever pain she was feeling, I just wanted to make her smile.
Jesus, I sound like a pussy.
She hasn’t talked to me much since we left the restaurant. I think she might be pissed, but hell if I know why. I swear women invent fucking reasons to be pissed off. It’s like, ‘hey, I haven’t chewed your ass out in a while, let’s go a round.’ My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, groaning. My mother.
I know I have to answer it because if I don’t she’ll just call every ten minutes. I apprehensively touch the screen and bring the phone to my ear. “Yea.”
“Maximillian James Cartwright, why have you not called me in over a week?” Her clipped tone bites through the phone.
I hate when she uses my full name. Makes me sound like such a country club, golf playing, polo wearing douchebag. I used my nickname when I got here because I knew if they ever found out my real name I would never live it down. My mother thought she would be giving birth to a future senator, or CEO. I’m sure that she never dreamed I would leave and join a motorcycle club. “Sorry, I have been busy.” I watch my words, not needing her to give me shit for using slang.
“You should never be too busy for your mother.” Her entitled my-shit-doesn’t-stink attitude drips from her tone. “When are you going to come home and stop this silly little rebellion?”
It takes everything in me to control myself. I ran as far and fast from that house as I could as soon as I turned eighteen. “I have already told you that I am not coming home, Mother.”
I hear her sniffle, and I might feel bad if I didn’t know her game. “Don’t start the tears. I know as well as you do that they are fake. I will not be coming home.”
She huffs. “I cannot keep making excuses as to why you are not here. This is starting to get ridiculous. We all just want you to come back. You are putting so much stress on this family.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes. “That’s probably because this is the first problem you can’t throw money at and make it go away. I need to go.” I hang up the phone before giving her a chance to respond.
I force myself to take a few deep breaths before walking toward the bar and grabbing a seat at the end. I watch as Tracie shows Izzy all the stuff behind the bar. At least she’s back here and not up on the stage. There is no way I would be able to sit through that. She glances at me and catches me watching her. Immediately her entire body turns but since she has her hair up I can see her neck getting red.
I affect her and it feels so good.
Still I have to be careful. The club is full of brothers and I don’t want any of them to think there is something going on between us. Even if I wasn’t told to stay away from her I couldn’t claim her, not until I patch in. If one of these dicks wanted her they could take her and I couldn’t do shit about it. My body fills with tension as I imagine losing her to a brother.
The club isn’t busy yet, so after Tracie walks away Izzy comes over to where I’m sitting. “Do you need a drink?” The red V-neck shirt she’s wearing hugs her chest; it has the name Ambrosia written across it in black script. I can’t see her denim skirt, but I know from seeing her earlier that her long legs look amazing in it.
The best part is that she has no idea how sinful she looks. She’s pure and innocent. A blank slate and all I want to do is mark her up. That is exactly why I should stay away from her, why I’m fighting this goddamn internal battle to keep my hands to myself.
“Yea, I’ll get an Irish Car Bomb.”
Her eyes widen in panic. “I...um—”
I knew she’d have no idea what that was and laugh as she starts frantically looking around for the cheat sheet Tracie has handed her. “I’m just messing with you. I’m not drinking.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “Not nice.”
“Never said I was.” I shrug.
“Yea, well, I’ll remember that when you’re cold tonight and I don’t share any covers with you.” She sticks her tongue out at me and walks away.
“Damn, Prospect, never thought I’d say I wish I had your job.” I turn to see Brick standing next to me. His eyes are glued to Izzy’s ass. “Sharing a bed with her is the best job in the club right now.”
Yea, it wouldn’t matter ‘cause brainless dickheads aren’t her type.
“You ever cop a feel?” His elbow nudges my arm.
I fight the urge to throw my fist into his jaw for even talking about touching her. This is one of the hardest parts of my position. Taking all their shit and not reacting to it.
“Come on, you can tell me. Any man with eyes would run a hand over that ass.” He laughs.
