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

by Marysol James

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, looping her arms around his neck, carefully avoiding the fresh tattoos. “For Friday night. I – I freaked out. I didn’t want Wolf to see what we’d just… well. You know. What we’d done.”

  “Are you ashamed to be seen with me, Zoe?” He held his breath, praying hard that he was wrong about this. “Ashamed of what we did?”

  “No,” she said, startled. “No, Scars. That’s not it, I swear.”

  “Then what was it that made you run out of there? The truth now, baby.”

  “The truth.” She sighed heavily, and he held her closer. “OK, well…the truth is that I’m not really sure about… well. You.”

  “What? What about me?” He stroked her cheek. “Don’t you get it, Zoe? All you need to know about me is that you’ve got me, hook, line, and sinker. You belong with me. We belong together.”

  “See, that’s the thing, though. We don’t.”

  “OK, what? We don’t what?”

  “I can’t belong to anyone, not ever. I don’t want to belong to anyone. Least of all you.”

  “Least of all me?” he said, the anger is his voice clear. “What the fuck, Zoe? What does that mean?”

  “It means that I don’t belong to anyone now, Scars, and I don’t ever want to in the future. It’s not safe, being that dependent on someone, being that open and vulnerable. I’m not yours, not even close, and the fact that you keep sort of… I don’t know… bullshitting that I’m special to you when I’m not, it makes me run screaming.”

  “Hey,” he said, outraged, but she cut him off.

  “ It – it makes me wonder what the game is, you know? Like you’re setting me up with lying promises, and I’m wondering when the other shoe is going to drop, and when you’re going to move on to the next stupid whore. I mean – the sex stuff is great, and the chemistry is off the charts. OK? I’ll give you all of that, hands-down, and if we just kept it like that, maybe I could hack it. But you don’t mean it when you say anything beyond how hot you think I am.” She took a deep breath. “Especially when you try to claim ownership of some kind. That’s the biggest lie of all – that’s the one thing that I know you don’t mean. You can’t mean it.”

  “Stop saying that you don’t belong with me,” he growled at her. “That you don’t belong to me.”

  “I don’t belong with you.” Zoe tried to mount some kind of coherent defense, though she was fully aware that it was way too little, and far, far too late. Damn that space that they’d created; damn her own need for him. “I don’t want to belong to you.”

  “Liar.” His voice and eyes were both uncompromising. “You want to be mine… you want it to happen as bad as I do.”

  “Scars…” She shook her head, and his name came out as a sob. A tear slid down her cheek, and she turned away, humiliated to be so weak in front of him.

  Right away, his face and stance changed. On a less-hard man, it’d all look like softening, but Scars never looked sweetly-soft, not even when he was being gentle. Instead, the change somehow made him look more dangerous. Harder. Angrier.

  The truth was that Zoe’s sudden lowering of her guard this evening had shown him and made him understand – for the first time – her clear distress at being made vulnerable with a man. And that made him fucking furious, because he knew now what that probably meant, what had quite possibly happened. How he’d missed it before, he had no idea, but he saw it now, and it couldn’t be unseen.

  All he wanted to do was to kill whoever had scared and hurt her this much. He didn’t care who they were, where they were – he’d hunt them down, and make sure there was nothing left of them. She was his, and that made her safety and peace-of-mind his job, and to hell with any goddamn consequences.

  “Don’t cry, beautiful,” he said roughly. “Just don’t, OK? It fucking tears me apart when I see that.”

  Zoe took a deep breath, fighting for calm, but calm was just about the last thing that she felt. Why did this keep happening with him? How the hell had this man gotten so far, and so deep, under her skin? And why did she keep coming back for more, knowing who and what he was?

  Is this more than just physical chemistry? Holy God, is this more than anything I’ve ever had before, with anyone?

  Scars saw the confusion all over her face, saw the fear in her eyes, and he found himself wondering, yet again, what she was hiding behind that gorgeous mask.

  “Zoe. Look at me. Right now.”

  As a final, desperate act of defense and defiance, she shut her eyes.

  “No.” So, so impossibly gently, Scars kissed her eyelids. “Look at me, baby.”

  “I – I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because.” Her voice broke as the truth escaped from her without warning. “If I do, then I’ll crack wide open. You’ll see me, Scars, and then I’ll just – I’ll tell you everything.”

  “And would that be so bad?” Scars traced the curve of her lips, knowing that he’d already seen her in ways that she had no idea that she’d given away. When she came under his fingers, his mouth, his cock, she gave herself so completely. He’d told her the other night in his office that he’d seen her soul shining in those green depths, and that hadn’t been a lie. “Letting me know you? See you?”

  “Yes.” Zoe shuddered at his tender touch, halfway lost again already. “It would be the worst thing I can think of.”

  “Why?” he said, baffled. “Why the hell do you think this?”

  Zoe shook her head again, regaining control now. Enough of this bullshit; just enough. She’d been tap-dancing around it with this man for weeks now, blowing hot and then cold, running to him and having mind-blowing orgasms, then shutting down, and running away. What she was doing was immature, and pathetic, and unfair – to both of them. Time to come clean, to just lay it on the line. Sure enough, he’d leave her alone as soon as he heard the truth.

  She opened her eyes, and he saw that the armor was back up now. The heart-wrenching flashes of hurt, fear and fragility that he’d seen in those astonishing eyes were long gone, and all that remained was Zoe’s usual cool, icy reserve.

  My rose has returned to her little ice cage. She’s encased herself and made herself untouchable, again.

  Hurt and angry at her retreat, he wanted to keep her here until she saw that he wasn’t going to hurt her, fucking not ever. He also wanted to scoop her up into his arms, take her home, and hold her until she felt safe enough to tell him anything and everything. But her next words kicked him in the balls and ripped his heart out.

  “What I’ve been trying to tell you is that I can’t trust you, Scars,” she said quietly. “I can’t count on you.”

  “You can’t –”

  “No.” Her tone was final, closed. “I can’t.”

  He paused for a few seconds, swallowing his slowly-building-hurt. “Why are you saying this to me, Zoe? What have I ever done to make you think that you can’t trust me, or count on me?”

  “It’s not what you’ve done. It’s who you are.”

  “And who am I?”

  “A Road Devil. An MC member.” Her green eyes were sharp. “A guy who thinks of women as possessions, and club property, and easy fucks in a back room. A guy who has a shady-as-hell past as Kirk Jensen’s lap dog and best buddy, and I’d lay money, a guy who’s killed people. A guy that I don’t want around any small child, and most especially not mine. ”

  “OK, stop right there.” Now he was seriously pissed. “How the fuck can you have me so wrong?”

  She shrugged, struggling to stay nonchalant. Not so damn easy to do when held tight against this man’s hard body, but she was determined to give it her best shot. “I don’t think I do have you wrong.”

  “Oh, you sure as hell do.” He took a deep breath, tightened his grip, and launched right on in. “First up, baby? I don’t think of women as posses
sions, or brainless things, or holes to fuck. I’d never insult you like that, and you’re a real piece of work to think you can insult me like that. Second, yeah, I have a shady past setting up deals for the financial stability of the club, and yeah, I’ve sure as fuck killed people. Just like every other man in this place – including Wolf, Saint, Cole. If you want to know the circumstances, I’m happy to tell you, and then I think you’ll agree that – in every single damn case – it was kill or be killed.”

  Zoe looked away from those burning eyes, hating the treacherous little burst of hope that jumped up in her chest. Oh, God, a part of her wanted to believe that Scars was actually a decent guy. Dammit.

  “Finally – and this is the big one, so you listen good and close – I’d never do anything to hurt Keira, and you’d better get that straight in your goddamned head right this minute. Of all the things that you’ve said to me, accused me of, flung in my face, that is – by fucking far – the absolute worst. For you to think for one damn second that I’d ever put her in danger, or lay a finger on her in violence, or… I don’t know…even shout at her or scare her, that’s the lowest thing that you could ever say to me. You’re way out of line, Zoe, and you owe me an apology for that, if for nothing else.”

  “I…”

  “Actually, you know what?” He shoved her away from him now, got to his feet. “Forget it. For real, this time.” He retrieved his shirt and cut, threw them both over his head and on his body in record time. “I know we’ve had our squabbles and arguments, and then we both kinda cool off, and talk, and hot talk turns to kissing and then we’re all over each other. At least, until you decide that I’m an asshole once again, and then you throw shit in my face, and run away and leave me wondering what the hell I did wrong this time. Then you develop fucking amnesia, and come one back and kiss me, and then we just go into a whole new damn cycle.”

  “Scars…”

  “I’m done,” he said abruptly. “I’m sick of it. You’ve clearly made up your mind about me, though God knows why, because I’ve been nothing but decent to you. I don’t know what you’re holding against me, but I’m truly disappointed that you haven’t had the fucking guts to just come out and tell me. Let me explain or defend myself, and if I couldn’t do that, I’d at least know what the issue was.” He turned, and his back was huge and furious. “Instead, you’ve chosen the coward’s way. You attack and run, and never ever tell me what I did. Well, you wanted me to leave you alone, and this time, you got your wish. Dragging Keira into it – that was the line that I never thought you’d cross, and you did. ”

  “Please…”

  “No.”

  And when she watched him walk out this door, this time, she knew that he was gone. That she’d really made sure that he was gone.

  And unlike the other times that she’d driven him away, she didn’t even try to justify her behavior with the reasons she’d been holding close and tight for the past six years. Her reasons were crap, she saw now, they were utter crap, and they were nothing but excuses for her to run scared.

  Zoe remembered something that she’d had to read back in high school English lit class, an absolutely torturous book with endless individual stories written in Ye Olde English. There was a dragon in one of the tales, and the dragon clutched its grievance and rage to its chest, and chewed on its maw, night and day, getting sicker and more twisted with each passing year. It stubbornly held onto its resentment and harmed itself – and never once did the dragon think to just express what its goddamn problem was. To set itself free from its own misery, using its own voice.

  For six years, Zoe had been chewing on her maw, clutching the events of that night to her breast in a death grip – and not once had she talked to Scars about any of it, told him how it had colored and tainted her views on him.

  Scars was right. She was a coward.

  Worse, she was a coward who’d punished a man for things that had literally nothing to do with him.

  Scars hadn’t been in the bar back room that night six years ago. He’d been in the MC, of course, been one of their ilk, but they’d never even laid eyes on each other back then. And if Zoe were being honest with herself, she knew that if Scars had stumbled upon that whole awful, terrifying scene, he’d have stopped his fellow MC members.

  Yes, he would have. He’d have protected her, a total stranger. He’d have roared at them to get off her, and he’d have covered her with clothes off his own body. He’d have chosen decency over brotherhood. Just like Wolf did.

  Wolf. I need to talk to Wolf. It’s time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Wolf Connor was absolutely a lot of things, and many of them were really, really bad… but a liar wasn’t one of those things. He also wasn’t subtle or careful with language. If anyone was going to tell Zoe how it was and how badly she’d messed up, Wolf was the man for the job.

  Zoe had just finished telling him everything about her and Scars – from that first unplanned and mind-blowing night in the bar back room, to the kitchen confrontation over pizza, to both flirtations/fights in the tattoo parlor, to the desk fingering, to Scars’ astounding patience finally hitting its limit the night before – and she was now sitting fidgeting on nhis bed as Wolf stared at her in amazement as he packed.

  “For God’s sake,” she blurted out at last. “Say something!”

  “Still decidin’ what to say, Zee.” He shook his head, zipped shut his duffel bag for his trip. “I mean, of course I knew that you two were foolin’ around. Lots of us knew, and we’ve been layin’ bets when you two would just come out and own up to it. Mostly you, really, because it was obvious that Scars was head-over-heels.”

  She sputtered, and he raised his voice a bit.

  “But I am a bit surprised how far it’s all gone and how many times you’ve been at each other’s throats sayin’ stupid things that are just wastin’ time. And I didn’t know when it all started, so that bar back room story is a bit of a shock.” He grinned. “Gotta admit, I warned the boys away from you when you first got to Denver, but when you took up with Scars, I was fuckin’ thrilled. He’s one of the good ones. One of the best. Me and the guys really think that you gotta stop messin’ him around.”

  “Uh, hold up. You – you knew that me and Scars were… you knew what we were doing?”

  He rolled those hard gray eyes. “Jesus Christ, Zee. You think I’m an idiot?”

  “So why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Why didn’t you?” he rejoined, throwing the duffel next to the bedroom door.

  “Because… well. Because it was just – just sex.”

  “Bullshit.” He sat down next to her on his bed, stretched his long legs in front of him, drank some coffee. “Such total damn bullshit. If this is how you tell Scars that he doesn’t mean much to you beyond his cock, I can see why he doesn’t believe you. You’re a terrible liar, Zee. Always have been. And you must be especially fuckin’ bad at it naked after cummin’ for the guy multiple times.”

  “Wolf,” she said, automatically blushing bright-red. “It really is just sex. Was.”

  “You don’t do that.”

  “I don’t do what?”

  “Just sex. You ain’t built that way, baby girl.”

  “Well – that’s normally true.”

  “And Scars doesn’t do just sex.”

  “Sure, he does. He did.”

  “Nope. He doesn’t and he didn’t. He told you that he doesn’t and he didn’t.”

  “You believe him?”

  “Yep. I do. I’ve known you for twenty-two years, since I was thirteen, and I’ve known Scars for almost fifteen years, since I patched in at twenty-one. He’s my VP and my brother, you’re my sister and the only woman that I’ve ever really loved, Zee. I know you both, know you like I know myself… and I know that you guys ain’t like me, and you don’t do casual sex. Not with anyone, and most especially no
t together.”

  She sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, OK… I mean, shit. You’re right, Wolf.”

  “Now we’re gettin’ somewhere at long last. So, this is how I think of this goddamn mess that you’ve created: seein’ as you don’t do just fucks, and Scars doesn’t do just fucks, but you two are fuckin’, I’d say that you’re doin’ more than just fuckin’. Don’t you think?”

  Zoe paused, trying to figure out just what the hell Wolf had just said.

  “So… you’re saying that…” Her voice trailed off. “Sorry. What are you saying?”

  “I’m sayin’, baby girl, that the very fact that you two keep havin’ sex when you don’t do casual tells me that you’re important to each other. You obviously can’t stay away from each other, no matter how hard you try. You both got a lot of history that you’re workin’ against, and it’s the kind of history that keeps people from really trustin’ and connectin’. It’s hurt history, and you both keep lookin’ past it for each other. That has to mean somethin’, don’t you think?”

  “What’s Scars’ history?” she asked, suddenly burning with curiosity. “You mean all his club crimes and womanizing?”

  “Christ, Zee,” Wolf snapped. “I just finished tellin’ you: the man ain’t a womanizer.”

  She put up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “OK, OK, sorry. Habit when it comes to you MC boys, I just assume you’re all bed-jumping.”

  Wolf glowered. “Not everyone, Zee, and definitely not Scars. You’d be surprised how many of the boys ain’t man-whores, no matter how you think they look. But that ain’t the point here – the point is that Scars was hurt bad as a teenager, and he suffered a huge loss. Ever since then, his life has been about findin’ and protectin’ family. Has he done some illegal and sketchy shit for the club? Yeah. So have I. So has everyone. And if you can still trust me and love me, knowin’ that I ain’t always been a good man, what’s stoppin’ you from doin’ that for Scars? He’s been through enough hell to last two lifetimes, and he’s come out the other side of all a stand-up guy. Believe me.”