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

by Marysol James

  “You’re talking about the car accident?” she asked quietly. “When he was nineteen? The one that scarred him for life?”

  “Yeah. The one that killed his parents.”

  “What?” She stared at Wolf in horror. “He didn’t tell me that part!”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “OK, well…” Wolf set down his coffee cup, looked at Zoe hard, like he was trying to see her insides. “Scars was at college in Texas on a full-ride football scholarship. He was home for Christmas, and his parents and younger brother Sam had come to pick him up from the airport. Bad weather, the car spun out, hit black ice, I think. They went right off a mountain edge, flipped over in the ravine below.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Sam was only twelve years old then, and Scars was in the back seat with him. Got them both out of their seatbelts, carried Sam clear and to safety. Then he went back for his Mom and Dad, who were both unconscious. By then, the car was on fire.”

  “He – Scars went back into a burning car to save them?”

  “You really don’t know who he is, do you?” Wolf rasped. “You don’t have the first fuckin’ clue what he’s made of.”

  Chastised, ashamed, Zoe was silent.

  “Anyway. Yeah, he went back to get his parents out, but he couldn’t get the seatbelts loose. He was burnin’ up, Zee, and he still wouldn’t leave the car. The man was nineteen years old then, and had caught fire, and he had to be dragged kickin’ and screamin’ out of the damn car by other drivers. Took five full-grown adult men to get Scars out and away. They’d just gotten him clear when the car exploded.”

  “Jesus.”

  “He quit college and took care of Sam the only way that he saw how: he started workin’ with The Road Devils. Good money, so Scars gave Sam everythin’ he needed. As Sam got older, Scars started to get deeper into the club, and by the time Sam decided that he wanted to go to med school, Scars had secured Jensen as the MC’s main partner. Scars knew what kind of deal with the devil he was makin’, but all he saw was steady income for the club – and for him and his brother.”

  “Oh,” Zoe said, starting to see. “Oh.”

  “Scars spent almost nothin’ on himself for almost ten years… everythin’ that he made went to pay for his little brother becomin’ a doctor. Scars paid the tuition, got Sam a great apartment, paid all his bills, did all his grocery shoppin’. He sacrificed everythin’ that he’s ever wanted for himself for Sam, and in all the years that I’ve known him, not once has he said one fuckin’ word of regret about any of that. That’s who Scars Innis is, Zoe. That’s the man you keep accusin’ of bein’ a liar and untrustworthy and selfish.”

  “Oh,” she said in a tiny voice. “Oh, shit.”

  “Yep. You’ve had the man wrong from the word go, baby girl.”

  “Christ on a cracker.” She ran her hands through her hair. “How the hell was I supposed to know any of this?”

  “You ask him?” Wolf suggested. “Like, with words, and conversation, and shit like that?”

  “Shut up, Connor,” she huffed. “Like I’ll take any advice about talking to the person I’m sleeping with from you. You don’t even know the names of half the women you get into bed with.”

  “Hey,” he snapped. “Watch the smart mouth, Zee. What I do ain’t your concern, and what you and Scars have got goin’ on ain’t anything like what I do, anyway. You can lie to yourself all you want, but he meant somethin’ to you from the first time you two met.”

  “Oh, really?” she said, stung and confused by all her conflicting emotions at what Wolf had shown her about Scars. “And just how do you know that?”

  Wolf flashed her that dangerous, predatory smile that had given him his name. “Because if he didn’t? You’d never have gone into that back room with him in the first place. Not after what happened the last time you did that with a man.”

  She sucked in air, all snark and sass forgotten now. “Wolf –”

  “Nuh-uh. You know I’m right. After what happened to you, the fact that you went on back there with him anyway, the very first night you laid eyes on the man?” Wolf shook his dark head. “That means that you liked and trusted him right from the beginnin’, baby girl. On some level, you knew you were safe with him, and you sure as hell knew that he was a good guy. He is a good guy, and you just can’t admit it to yourself.”

  “I – I –”

  “What I can’t figure out is why,” he said. “Why can’t you just let Scars be nice to you? Take care of you? Be good to Keira?”

  She crossed her arms, and he recognized this as her go-to defensive posture. He gentled now, seeing no real need to beat her over the head with the point anymore; he was pretty damn sure that Zoe got the point. Now it was all about getting her to admit it, mostly to herself.

  “Zoe. C’mon. Talk to me, OK? I know and love you, and I may not shout about it, but I know and love Scars. I trust him with my fuckin’ life, and I trust him with yours and Keira’s, too. Why can’t you just give the man a chance?”

  She bit her lip, still thinking about that night that had taken Scars’ and Sam’s parents so horribly. God, his parents had literally blown up, right in front of those poor, horrified kids. What in actual hell did that do to a person?

  Well, in Sam’s case, it had propelled him towards caring for others, fighting to save others, sending people home from tragedy when his own parents hadn’t. And Scars? It had made him fiercely protective, focused, driven to succeed. He’d done everything that he’d done for financial security, for acceptance, for a place in a family after losing most of his.

  And she’d judged him from the beginning, just because of his cut. She’d presumed to know him, just because of that damn MC label attached to him, and her own prejudices about that label. She’d belittled and berated him, just because he had dared to offer her something real and honest and true. He’d offered her who he was, and she’d treated that astonishing gift cheap.

  And now she’d lost him. She’d lost a good man. The best man. The only man for her.

  One last chance, that’s all I ask. One last chance, God, and I swear, I won’t screw it up this time.

  “Ahhhh, baby girl,” Wolf said gently, knowing what she was thinking. “Go talk to him. Tell him that I’ve left for Colorado Springs without him. He can pay his respects to our ex-President’s widow later this week.”

  “Is that where you guys are going today?” she faltered. “To – visit a widow?”

  “Yeah. We need to go every year on the anniversary of Wheels Jordan’s death. He was a bastard and a prick, but protocol is protocol, baby girl. I’ll be gone overnight, back tomorrow, and so you go and talk to Scars now. Before he heads over to the club to meet me.”

  “Do you think – you think he’ll listen to me?”

  “Yes,” Wolf said simply. “He will.”

  “Why would he?” she asked, the desperation clear in her voice. “After everything I’ve said and done?”

  “Because,” Wolf said. “That’s who Scars Innis is, in his heart. That’s exactly who he is. Don’t you know that yet, Zoe?”

  And suddenly Zoe realized – fully and for the first time and in this moment – that she did know it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Scars had just switched off the coffeemaker when he heard a knock at his front door. He paused, puzzled. One of the benefits of living way the hell up in the mountains was that he never had anyone just randomly showing up and knocking at his door. He figured it had to be Wolf, because who else could it be? Maybe he’d gotten up crazy-early, and was ready to go, and decided to come out here and pick Scars up? Then again, he had heard a car engine go by, not a bike motor, so maybe it was a lost soul, seeking directions back to the city?

  He strode across his living room, opened the door – and goggled down at Zoe, standing there in the morning sun
, looking golden and gorgeous, balancing two steaming cups of takeout coffee and a box of pastries.

  “Hi,” she began, but that’s as far as she got, because Wolf narrowed his eyes, said, “Oh, hell, no!” and shut the door in her face.

  Zoe stared at the door, sighed. OK, fair enough. She totally deserved that, and honestly, she deserved way worse. She bit her lip, wondering just how bad it was going to get, then squared her shoulders. The man was more than entitled to his anger, and she respected that.

  She set the coffees and pastries down on the porch table, tapped at the door again. “Scars?”

  “What? What the fuck are you doing here, Zoe?”

  “I’m standing on your front porch, talking to you through a door. What are you doing?”

  She heard him pause, knew that he was remembering the conversation they’d had that night at her house. When he’d been the one on the porch holding food and drink, and she’d been the one inside, refusing to be helpful.

  “I’m wondering just how the hell you know where I live,” he snapped. “You been following me?”

  “Wolf told me.”

  “Bastard. I’ll be having a word with him.”

  “Scars?”

  “What? What the actual fuck can you possibly want? You said everything on your mind yesterday, and you were crystal clear that I’m an untrustworthy asshole who’s gonna hurt you, hurt your kid, wreck your life, basically end the world as you know it. I’m done, Zoe. If you’re here to get in my pants and then kick me in the balls again, don’t hold your breath. Or, actually, on second thought, do. Hold your breath for a long, long time.”

  “It was a bit hard to hear all that through the door, so could you please open it up? Maybe come out here and sit with me? I’d love to talk to you like normal people do, over a coffee and croissant I brought some, and everything’s fresh and hot.”

  “I’m cutting back on caffeine, starting right now, so you can just drink the damn coffee yourself,” he said coldly, and she remembered her telling him that on her first day at the parlor, when he’d brought her coffee as a peace-offering and an ice-breaking conversation-starter. He was throwing her words back in her face, and for the first time, she truly heard and understood how childish and churlish she’d been with this man. She thought that he had to be in the running for sainthood by now. “But thanks anyway. You can get going.”

  “OK, I’ll go,” she said, making up her mind how to handle this next.

  “Bye.”

  “I’ll go after I have a coffee with you out here. I’m not leaving until you take what I’ve brought you and we’ve cleared the air properly, so you might as well open the door, Scars. It’s an absolutely perfect morning up in the mountains, and your front porch has an awfully comfy chair to just hang out in and enjoy nature.”

  Silence.

  “OK, then,” she said brightly, sitting down and opening one of the styrofoam lids. “I’m waiting for you to come out. Or not. Your call.”

  “Jesus Christ, Zoe. You’re the most damn impossible female ever born.”

  The door opened now, and he stood there in jeans and a tight black t-shirt, looking at her grimly. There wasn’t even the slightest bit of warmth or welcome on his face, or in his body language, and she didn’t blame him at all. She’d been nothing but a bitch to this man, and she’d pushed him beyond what was acceptable, with her push-and-pull, her drama and dramatics, her hot-and-cold.

  If she wanted him in her life, then she had to open up. It was time to be honest.

  “Thank you for coming out,” she said quietly, picking up his coffee and offering it to him. “Please… would you sit?”

  He stared at her, with a bit of confusion now, and she waited. She wasn’t surprised that he was being wary and wondering what was up. After all and despite her nasty accusations, she’d been the one playing games, not him, and he’d been the one waiting for the other shoe was going to drop, not her. She knew he was standing there and wondering what awful, terrible, untrue thing she was going to fling at him next, and again, that was a fair way for him to think about her.

  Her past behavior had caused this mess. Her current behavior had to be better, it had to be her best self. Sure, she was still afraid, and God knows, she didn’t want to talk about what happened in that bar back room, but she was going to do it for Scars. He deserved the truth. What he decided to do with it afterwards, if anything at all, well… that was up to him.

  It was his turn to call the shots.

  He sat now, turned the cup of coffee around and around in his large hands, watching her closely. Said nothing. So Zoe launched in.

  “Just over six years ago, I was dating a guy named Bear Ellis.”

  Scars started. He hadn’t thought about that man since he’d been gunned down by The Fallen Angels five years before. They’d never been close, but Bear had been one of his brothers. “You – you knew Bear?”

  “Yes.” She took a shuddering breath. “Wolf introduced us, and we were together for about two months.”

  Scars blinked, and suddenly pieces started to fall into place. If Zoe had been in love with Bear Ellis and he’d been brutally murdered, then no wonder she was fighting so hard against her attraction to Scars. She wouldn’t want to get involved with another MC guy, would she, not if there was any chance of him being blown off the planet.

  It explained so much. Her lack of trust in relationships being more than temporary. Her attraction to him, and then repulsion. Her disdain and suspicion of all things club-related.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “It must have been horrible to lose him that way.”

  She shot him a look, and it wasn’t one that made any sense. “It really wasn’t.”

  “Ummmm.” And just like that, he was back in the goddamn dark that was his normal state of being when dealing with Zoe Parish. “No?”

  “No,” she hissed. “I hated him. I wished him dead every day, and then when he was, all I thought was that the world was better off without him.”

  “So… so you weren’t in love with him?”

  “No. He’s the reason that I left Denver screaming and never looked back. He – he hurt me, Scars.”

  Those amazing eyes were angry, intense. He set down his coffee. “Tell me, Zoe. Now.”

  “I will,” she whispered. “It’s – I find it hard to talk about, Scars, so I’m begging you to please be patient with me. I know it’s the last thing that I deserve, that I’ve got a lot of nerve to expect one more second of goodwill from you, but please, just a bit more patience, and just a bit longer. Is that OK?”

  “You got it, baby,” he said, starting to feel much less angry, and much more concerned. “Take your time.”

  She nodded, looked away from him to the glorious mountains. She knew that she’d never be able to talk about this while meeting that mesmerizing blue gaze, so the trees and rocks and birds it was. She took a breath.

  “Like I said, Wolf introduced us, and because Bear was one of his brothers, I was more open than I would normally have been to a guy from an MC. I mean, I had a vague idea by then what kind of world Wolf was living in, but he’d done a really good job of keeping the worst of it from me, and protecting me from too much knowledge. So when Bear started paying attention to me, I was flattered, I guess. I figured that he had his choice of women and hangers-on, and… well. He was called Bear for a reason, and I’ve always liked tall, strong men.”

  She gave Scars a quick look as he sat there in the sun, and she admired his physique. Her whole body remembered what it had been like to be held against that mountain of muscle, and she felt a twinge of sadness that it might never happen again. She looked away, took another breath.

  “I was incredibly busy working at a tattoo place from hell, and saving money to help Hailey through her hairdressing course. So even though me and Bear were kind of dating for two months, and I hung ou
t at Satan’s when I could manage it, we never… you know. Never slept together.”

  Privately, Scars thought that Bear would have been enthusiastically banging anything that moved, because no way that jerk would have held out for any woman. He knew that Zoe knew that, so he said nothing, just nodded.

  “So this one night…” She cleared her throat. “This one night, I showed up at Satan’s in the middle of a huge party, and I was kind of… I was planning to sleep with Bear that night.” She flushed, shifted in her chair. “I guess I just – I felt like it was time, you know? He wasn’t the love of my life or anything, but I was twenty-six and horny and he was gorgeous and totally into me, I thought and… you know?”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “So I was all dressed up for him, like a woman on a seductive mission. Stupid-short skirt and high heels and the tiniest, tightest halter top that you can imagine. When I walked in, all sexy and swaggering, Bear practically ran at me, then kissed me and dragged me into the back room. The one that you and I first went into that first night.”

  He looked at her sharply. “Where you said, ‘any room but this one’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, shit, baby.” His stomach had turned to a block of ice. “What the hell did that asshole do to you back there?”

  “Nothing bad, at first. It was – it was good. Enjoyable, even. He undressed me, kissed me, touched me. He was – I thought that it was going to be fun. But then… he changed.” She shook her head, and made her voice go flat and emotionless for the next part. “There was no warning when he slapped me across the face, hard. Hard enough to knock me to my knees on the fourth slap. When I tried to get up, he punched me until he loosened a tooth, and when I tried to crawl away, he grabbed me by my hair and dragged me across to the pool table. He threw me down on it, and he hit me until I think I was knocked out cold. When I came to, I was tied down with my legs open… and there were about ten other guys in the room with us.”