The Devil's Scars (The Road Devils MC Book 1)

by Marysol James

  Well, actually… that wasn’t completely true, if she were being honest. There was one more person involved, though she doubted he knew it. And if he had known it, he’d never have believed it.

  Scars had done exactly what he’d said he was going to do, and he’d disappeared from her life again. He hadn’t set foot in Blue Dragon at all. He hadn’t dropped by the house, not even on a flimsy pretext. He hadn’t approached her when she’d been over at Satan’s for a cup of coffee or lunch, and he’d been there at the same time. He hadn’t even waved when she’d spotted him across the parking lot and they’d made eye contact. Scars had just nodded, very stiffly and politely, from way the hell away, and carried on doing whatever it was that he did.

  So she’d gotten what she’d wanted, it seemed: she’d pushed him away for good.

  So why was she so goddamn miserable about it every single day at work?

  Oh, and not just at work. At home, too. Keira had shunned all her other stuffed animals in favor of that damn pink bunny, so every single time Zoe saw her sweet baby girl, she was clutching the little beast. She slept with it, for Christ sake, and dragged it all over God’s green earth. Maria had laughingly reported that the bunny – whose name appeared to be ‘Panda’ for no reason that Zoe or Maria could puzzle out – came on all their walks to the playground, and Keira had introduced Panda to the swings.

  God, when Zoe remembered how gentle and careful Scars had been with Keira, how that hard, scarred face had softened and sweetened… well. It kicked something deep inside her chest.

  She was very much afraid that it was her stupid, treacherous heart.

  And then she’d turned around and been the bitch of the century to the man. Hell, he’d even brought her a veggie pizza and pretty decent wine, asked about her week at work, been respectful and kind… and she’d been a total thunderwhore.

  The undeniable truth was, she owed Scars an apology. She’d kind of shuffled and shifted over the past week, hoping that he’d talk to her and create an opportunity for her to say sorry. She told herself that any weirdness between Wolf’s two best friends was bad for everyone around them. Not that anyone would have noticed the tension and ignoring and avoidance going on, but that was really just a matter of time, Zoe knew. MC’s were like families in more ways than one, and when two family members weren’t getting along, it became noticeable eventually.

  So she figured that for the good of the family, and most especially for Wolf, who was going to catch on sooner or later that something was wrong between his VP and his oldest friend, she should try to smooth things over a bit. She kind of waited around Satan’s when she knew Scars was in the office, she lingered around the parking lot when he was getting ready to go somewhere. Hell, she even brought some paperwork from Blue Dragon over to the clubhouse personally instead of sending one of the guys, in the hopes of running into Scars.

  But for a lying, low-life, murderous MC member, he’d been stubbornly as good as his word, and he’d steered totally clear of her. He’d excused himself from her presence, he’d left rooms as soon as she’d entered, he’d become absorbed in conversations with other people to not have to speak to her. So now here she was, actively looking for chances to see him and say sorry.

  And a relaxed, no-pressure, after-work drink on a Friday seemed liked a pretty good opportunity to do just that. She could just wander on up to the bar when Scars was standing there, say her piece, wander on back to the table. Her conscience and the air would both be clear. Perfect plan.

  Her cell pinged on the desk next to her, pulling her out of her thoughts and musings. She picked it up, smiled when she saw the text was from Willa. Jimmy had surprised her with a trip to New Mexico, which Zoe knew Willa was going to love. Cell reception was a bit spotty in the more remote areas, so whenever Willa had a signal, she fired off a quick text, and maybe a picture of a strangely-pink desert or a stunning, majestic mesa rising out of the golden landscape.

  This text didn’t say much, just a quick hello, and that Jimmy was taking to get her drunk off strawberry Margaritas. Zoe shook her head – Willa was an even cheaper drunk than she was – and wrote back for her friend to have fun, buy some Tylenol before commencing the rounds, and to give Jimmy a hug for her.

  Zoe then quickly called and checked in at home, confirmed that Maria could stay two hours longer than usual. Zoe hung up, thanking the good Lord above for Maria, yet again. The woman was a God-send, and that wasn’t even a small exaggeration. Keira adored her; she adored Keira and was fiercely protective of the baby.

  Yes, Zoe missed Keira desperately while she was away, but she was at Blue Dragon by eight most weekday mornings, doing paperwork and getting things ready for the new ten a.m. extended opening hours, and out by four-ish most days, so she had plenty of time to spend with the baby before her eight o’clock bedtime.

  She’d settled happily, gratefully, into the routine of the regular, normal, boring life of a not-so-struggling-anymore single Mom. Wolf was very generous with her pay and benefits, Silver was an incredible landlord, and Maria was well within her financial means, and was reliable, honest, and kind. All in all, this deal that Zoe had made with the devil – or at least The Road Devil that she knew and loved named Wolf – was working out just fine.

  Now… to that one last unresolved issue, standing between Zoe and her perfect, calm, predictable little life: Scars Innis.

  Saint held the door for her, like the filthy gentleman that he was in his heart, and they went over to Satan’s, chatting the whole way. He was an easy person to talk to, she’d found, unpretentious, funny, irreverent sense of humor. She could see why the ladies loved him, and sure enough, despite the fact that it wasn’t even five o’clock yet, they’d barely cleared the door before two women launched themselves across the room at Saint.

  “Hiiiii!” the one breathed, obviously a bit tipsy already. She hitched up her skirt, and Zoe knew – unfortunately and without any doubt whatsoever – that she wasn’t wearing any panties. “Boughtcha a beer, handsome.”

  “I did too!” the other one cooed, upping the stakes and unbuttoning her fourth button, which meant that her unsupported breasts were now legitimately in danger of falling out of that sort-of-blouse. “Join me, Saint? Make me a sweet sinner tonight?”

  Zoe almost rolled her eyes as the woman stumbled over the succession of ‘s’ words, indicating that she was also halfway to smashed. She also thought the whole saint/sinner thing was a bit cheesy, but whatever, and she was one hundred percent sure that Saint used the ‘sweet sinner’ line often. Probably to great effect.

  “Aw, thanks, ladies.” Saint gave them a wide grin, clocked both the shaved pussy and the pert, rosy nipples, and Zoe watched the women swoon. “But I’m here with Zee tonight… another time, OK?”

  They glared at her, and she fought down the sudden urge to giggle. Wow, they wanted to rip her hair out of her goddamn head, she could totally tell. She didn’t gloat, though, since it wasn’t like she was ‘with’ Saint, and she never would be.

  It was a bit funny, but Zoe wanted to reassure them, in a big sisterly kind of way as they did their makeup together in the bathroom, that she was no major threat because she was a boring single Mom. But they’d already huffed off to the bar, where Cole watched their approach with a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. Zoe wasn’t sure that it was a gleam of lust or desire, so much as a ‘I’m gonna have sooooo much fun teasing and taunting these drunk and half-naked chicks!’. Cole was nothing but a chain-jerker and trouble-maker, at the end of the day, and he was as unapologetically irreverent as Saint, in some ways.

  “Sit, sweet cheeks,” Saint told her, gallantly pulling out a chair. “Now, what’s your poison?”

  “Erm…” Zoe looked over at Cole, recalling that night when he’d spiked her drink in a one-man mission. “Maybe… just a beer?”

  “You even like beer, Zee?”

  “Not much. But if you get me a r
um and Coke, can you make sure that Cole actually, you know, puts some Coke in? More than a sip?”

  Saint’s blue eyes danced. “You sure now?”

  “Yeah. I gotta go home to a baby. I can’t be half-buzzing and tired and off my game.”

  “Ah, of course.” He slapped his hand on his forehead in a classic, ‘Duh!’ gesture. “Gotcha. Consider it done.”

  “Well, OK, then.” She smiled up at him, suddenly very glad to have accepted his offer. “Thanks.”

  “Sure thing, sweet cheeks. Hang out, stay cool. Be right back.”

  She nodded, scanned the bar, trying to look like she wasn’t looking for him. But she was, of course… she wasn’t looking for anyone else at all. Not even…

  “Well, hey, there, baby girl!”

  Wolf’s voice boomed out behind her, and Zoe jumped, spun, almost fell off her chair. She recovered, then almost fell off again when she saw Scars standing there next to Wolf. Tall, broad, hair falling over his forehead in messy dark waves that her fingers itched to smooth back. Scowling at her, those amazing blue eyes missing anything like a warm welcome.

  “Wolf,” she managed, suddenly feeling like shit that she hadn’t been by to see her oldest, best friend in days. “God, I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you. I just –”

  “No problemo,” he said, waving his hand at her. “You been busy, Zee, runnin’ that fuckin’ parlor properly for the first time in forever. The guys come in here after work almost every day, and tell everyone how you’re killin’ yourself to get it together and organized, then goin’ home to be Mom, then you’re back again the next day hours before anyone else shows up. You got your hands full, so if you think I’m gonna knock you for not droppin’ by here every day to get loaded, you’re wrong.”

  “Well,” she began, feeling embarrassed. Wolf was making her sound like a damn superhero, and all she was, really, was a single mother… just like the approximately other ten million single mothers in the U.S., many of whom were also holding down jobs while mommy-ing. “It’s not that big of a deal. I mean, it’s no big stress or strain.”

  “C’mon, baby girl,” he chided her gently. “You’re doin’ good over there. You’re doin’ good at home. It ain’t easy, but you got this. Let me say that I’ve noticed you’re kickin’ ass, OK? Me, and everyone else.”

  Zoe’s eyes jumped to Scars, wondering if ‘everyone else’ included him. But he was glaring around the room, looking everywhere but at her, and her heart sank. She’d pushed him too far, clearly; what she’d said that night in the kitchen had been too much.

  Maybe he wouldn’t even give her a chance to apologize.

  “Excuse me,” Scars said abruptly, not even saying hi to Zoe, already in motion, already moving away from her. “Vixen’s waving me over.”

  Zoe’s head almost snapped around as she looked to her left. Sure enough, there was the woman with Satan’s most notorious, nefarious reputation, and in this place, that was really saying something.

  Vixen was known as the MC’s favorite ride – and she was rumored to have been with every one of the guys, and multiple times. She was the ultimate pass-around, the quintessential biker’s whore… and she was smiling sweetly at Scars, whilst wearing very little at all, as usual. The woman was smokily and sexily gorgeous, about that there was no doubt, but she had that brazen, aggressive, unpolished beauty of a wild creature. There was nothing demure or elegant or wallflower about Vixen. She was, to her core, an MC bar back room toy, and she was proud of it. s

  Zoe watched them talk, Scars leaning down a bit to hear what Vixen was saying over the music. He nodded, gave her a grin, and then they walked out of the main room, down the hallway to the back rooms area. Feeling slightly sick at what amazing tricks Vixen was surely about to show Scars – possibly in the same goddamn back room where she’d been with him just a few weeks before – Zoe forced herself to look back at Wolf. He was gazing at her, those gray eyes missing nothing as per goddamn usual, and she quickly threw up the protective walls. No go though, of course.

  “You OK?” he asked. “You look weird, baby girl.”

  “I am weird,” she retorted, deciding that jokey self-insults were the way to go here. “You know that, better than anyone.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” he replied, grinning broadly. He joined her at the table, then glanced around the bar, taking in everything and everyone. “So… how’s tricks?”

  “They’re for kids,” she snarked back, laughing a bit. “And I’m long past being a kid, Wolf. The wrinkles around my eyes tell me so.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Wolf nodded at Saint as he set Zoe’s drink down, then joined them. “You’re stunnin’, Zee, and you just get better lookin’ as time goes on.”

  “Hey,” Saint said to Zoe. “I heard you two go way back… how long have you known the Prez here?”

  “Ohhhh.” Zoe grinned at Wolf, took a cautious sip of her drink, relaxed when it didn’t make her choke like she was dying. “We telling stories tonight?”

  “You got some?” Saint cocked his blond head, teasing. “Hell, sweet cheeks… me and the boys would pay big bucks for you to dish on what Wolf was like as a kid. When did you guys first meet?”

  “Aw, man,” Wolf muttered, getting to his feet, but not really pissed off. Zoe was just about the only person on the planet who could get away with poking at him like this, and secretly, he liked it just fine. But only from her. “Goin’ to get a beer. Maybe four.”

  “Well!” Zoe said brightly, watching Wolf lope off, knowing damn good and well that he wasn’t even mildly annoyed. When Wolf was irritated, there was no doubt whatsoever. “I was ten when we moved to Wolf’s neighborhood. He was thirteen.”

  “So – what? Twenty-something years ago?”

  “Twenty-two. Met just before school started that year.” Zoe looked over at the bar where Wolf was taking a beer from Cole, and she smiled, remembering the first time that she’d ever seen him. “We pulled up to our new place, and all the neighborhood kids stopped playing and watched us unpack the car, and move the boxes into the house. Wolf was tall and he didn’t smile and he had holes in the knees of his jeans, and I knew he was the ring leader.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I’m not sure… just something about the way that all the other kids kept looking at him, but he never took his eyes off us. Me, and my sister, and my parents. He watched our every move, and the other kids were watching him watch us. He paid no attention to them at all, like he didn’t care what they said or did. That’s how I knew that he was the one that everyone looked to. I knew if he didn’t like me and my younger sister, then we were going to have a miserable time on that street.”

  “Did he like you right away?”

  “Yeah.” Wolf’s voice boomed above them, and Zoe and Saint looked up. “Yeah, I did. Liked her about five minutes after I first laid eyes on her.”

  “Because she was cute?” Saint winked at her. “Pigtails and skinned knees in a gingham dress?”

  “Nah.” Wolf shook his dark head, took his seat again. “Hell, man, she was tall and skinny and gawky, and was wearin’ shit-brown cords and a mustard-yellow t-shirt. And she had the worst fuckin’ haircut I’d ever seen anywhere, except on her kid sister. I think Hailey’s was worse.”

  Zoe laughed, even though she felt the usual pang of hurt in her chest at hearing her sister’s name spoken aloud, as if someone had just stuck a hot needle through her heart. “All true. My Mom thought bowl cuts on kids were adorable, and she did them herself. Cut her own hair the same way, if you can believe it.”

  “But you liked Zee pretty much on sight?” Saint repeated, clearly dying to get the story. “How come?”

  “Because I watched her with Hailey and her Mom.” Wolf’s voice was soft. He knew this was a sore topic for Zoe, for more than one reason. She heard his unasked question, and gave him a small, sad smile, nodded for him t
o go ahead. “I could tell that Zee was protectin’ them from her Dad. The way she kept Hailey busy and out of the way. Kept an eye on their Mom whenever her Dad started raisin’ his voice about somethin’ about the move. Quietly brought their Dad another beer without bein’ asked, to keep him calm and happy. I knew what I was lookin’ at because I saw it in my house every fuckin’ day.”

  “Alcoholic Dad that had to be handled with kid gloves?” Saint said. Zoe nodded. “Me too. Sucks, huh?”

  “Huge,” Zoe agreed, drinking more rum and Coke, and thanking Christ that for all her problems, booze wasn’t one of them. “He left when I was thirteen and Hailey was ten, but I’m assuming that if he’s still alive, he’s still a boozehound to this day. My Mom’s alive and she’s an alcoholic who I have no relationship with, but her problem didn’t really take hold until later. ’Til after Dad left, really.”

  “Shit, sweet cheeks. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well.” Zoe shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “So… you guys had drunk Dads in common,” Saint said. “That was enough to be friends?”

  “Nah.” Wolf drank some more beer. “It meant I understood Zee’s home life pretty good, but it wasn’t ’til we talked and hung out that I realized how cool she was. She was laid-back and funny, and she could kick my ass at marbles. Dead shot with a bow-and-arrow too. Bulls-eye every fuckin’ time.”

  “Yeah?” Saint gaped at Zoe. “For real?”

  “Almost every time,” Zoe corrected Wolf. “Sometimes I missed on purpose. Just so your ego wasn’t smashed to bits.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Wolf chuckled. “I know. Hell, I knew it then. Anyway, we grew up across the street from each other, in the same bad neighborhood. Same bad school, too, for a while, so we saw each other all the time. Survived the drive-by shootings every other week, survived the parents, survived the gangs and drug shit. Made it through.”