The Devil's Scars (The Road Devils MC Book 1) Page 6

  “Aw, darlin’.” Cole winked. “Now you’re just throwing out a challenge to me.”

  “To get me drunk?” Zoe said. “I’m the easiest drunk to ever walk through that door, so no challenge at all, I assure you.”

  “Naw. The challenge is to make you a shot that’ll get you buzzed and happy, but not shit-faced.”

  “Aren’t shots, by their very definition, supposed to get you shit-faced?”

  “Yeah. OK, you’re right.” Cole thought for a few seconds. “Rum and Coke? Extra ice cubes?”

  “Now you’re talking,” Zoe said with a grin. “Thanks.”

  Cole moved away to make her drink, and it was just her and Scars again. He hadn’t said a single word throughout her exchange with Cole, and she hadn’t so much as glanced his way, but she’d sensed him next to her the whole damn time, knew that he was watching her. She’d felt that amazing something else coming off him, felt it as sure and strong as if he’d physically laid hands on her.

  Gathering up her courage, she dared to glance at him again, and immediately wished that she hadn’t. Because Scars Innis was – hands-down and no debate – the hottest man she’d ever seen in the flesh. Not the most handsome, not the best-looking, definitely not the safest. But the sexiest, and God help her. His primal allure hung about him almost like a perfume, and it fogged her mind. Made her brain slow down, get all sluggish. Made her feel before she thought; made her want things before she could talk herself out of them.

  Dangerous. Dangerous as all hell.

  “So, Zoe.” She loved how he said her name so soft in that rough voice. “You all settled in?”

  She nodded and toyed with the end of her ponytail, feeling oddly shy.

  “And Keira’s room is all set up, too?” he said.

  Surprised that he’d remembered her baby’s name, she looked straight up at him, and their eyes met and held.

  Mistake. Fatal fucking mistake.

  God, his eyes. The bluest blue eyes that she’d ever seen, and so warm and gentle. The contrast of something so pure and calm in that hard warrior’s face was a shock, one that held her suspended in space and time. Her breath and heart stopped in her chest; her whole body just stopped for a few seconds.

  When her heart and breath started up again, Zoe felt nothing but heated longing. She wanted to touch him, and God knows, she wanted him to touch her.

  She wanted it more than she’d wanted anything in a long, long time.

  Zoe wasn’t used to wanting things for herself. Not anymore; not since Keira. But she wanted Scars Innis for herself, wanted everything that a man like him could offer her, no matter how temporary or limited. She wanted those rough, scarred hands moving on her body, in her body. Wanted those full lips stroking her lips, her breasts, between her legs.

  Even for just one night, she wanted it.

  Sending up a silent plea for strength and cool, she opened her mouth.

  “Yeah.” The word was kind of a pathetic squeak and she gave a little fake cough, determined to not show weakness. “Yeah, the guys got Keira’s bedroom ready for her.”

  Scars nodded, looked away as Cole brought Zoe’s drink over. She forced her eyes away from Scars’ massive, corded forearms covered in long scars, managed to give Cole a smile.

  “Thanks.” She fumbled with her purse. “How much?”

  “Nothing.” Cole winked at her again, liked how she blushed all pink and sweet at that. “This one’s on me, OK?”

  “You sure?” she said, already knowing that like Silver, Kansas, Jinx and Ice, Cole was going out of his way to do something nice for her, already knowing that she wasn’t going to so much as open her wallet in front of him. “Totally sure?”

  “Totally. Welcome home, Zoe.”

  “Thank you,” she said, oddly touched at the gentle words growled in that husky voice.

  “Hey, Cole!”

  A shout from the other side of the bar caught Cole’s attention, and he shot Zoe an apologetic glance.

  “To be continued,” he murmured, all low and sexy. “You sticking around for a while, babe?”

  “Oh.” Zoe swallowed, resisted the urge to look at Scars. “Oh, no. My friend’s flying in tomorrow with my daughter, so I need to have an early night. I’ll just have one drink and then I’m out the door.”

  “OK. You need a taxi home, you tell me. I’ll call one for you.”

  “Thanks, Cole.”

  “Sure.” He wandered off now, shouting at the guy that he was coming, already, Jesus fuck, man. The other man – a blond guy in a Road Devils cut and with tattoos across the knuckles of both hands – shook his head impatiently, then grinned when Cole poured him another shot.

  “Who’s that?” Zoe asked Scars, aiming for neutral conversational ground. “The blond guy?”

  “Saint.” Scars drank some Coke, since he was finding his throat incredibly dry in this goddess’ presence. “Works in the tattoo parlor too, so you’ll get to know him a bit.”

  He tried to keep the bitterness in his voice to a minimum, since he was suddenly insanely jealous of Saint, Viking and Arrow. They’d all be working with Zoe Parish day in and day out, and now that Scars had clapped eyes on the woman, he never wanted to let her out of his sight again. He sure as hell didn’t want her around guys – not any guys – and most definitely not his MC brothers.

  The MC was made up of decent men for the most part, he had to admit. Well, not all of them, and not all of the time. Sure, Wolf had taken the club legit, but these guys had pasts. Like, serious pasts. The kind of pasts that Scars wasn’t totally convinced that they’d shaken off. Not all the way.

  Maybe it just wasn’t possible to shake off that much violence and darkness, though. Maybe they were all just damned and marked, and each man had to make his peace with that in his own way, in his own time. And yeah, Scars counted himself among the damned and dirty. No doubt about that.

  He thought – he hoped – that he could be called a good man at the end of the day, but there was no denying some of the things that he’d done. Bad things, dark things. Things that had kept him up at night at the time that he’d done them, things that he was scared were going to haunt his dreams forever.

  But those things were in the past. Scars was looking to the future.

  It had been almost a year since Wolf had pulled The Road Devils out of all that violent, illegal shit for Kirk Jensen, and thank Christ for that – but that didn’t mean that they were all a bunch of Boy Scouts now. On paper and on the surface, the MC was totally above-board and beyond reproach. Scars hadn’t lied to his brother Sam about any of that – for the first time since patching in just over twenty years ago, his income was earned honestly and paid via bank transfer, not wads of cash handed over in bundles held together by elastic bands.

  But things were still happening… things were still lingering. Scars knew that during their time with Jensen, the boys had learned to deal with things a certain way – and that way was still their go-to reaction when shit went down.

  Now, Wolf favored talking over fighting, preferred using cool heads and not hot fists, preached patience and stepping down and back from a war. But despite their goodwill and loyalty to their Prez’s leadership and decisions, many of the boys didn’t fully understand any of that yet.

  What they understood was violence, and they understood it intimately.

  Oh, Scars didn’t believe for one second that any of The Road Devils would hurt Zoe. But he also didn’t believe for one nanosecond that they’d be serious about her, or that they’d offer her anything serious. Even Wolf, who really was a good man in his heart and who clearly loved Zoe fiercely, wouldn’t be able to do right by her. Not the way that she needed.

  Zoe had a daughter that she was struggling to take care of, and now she had real professional responsibilities. She wasn’t going to be into a guy who was just going to mess her around or
play games. She’d have exactly zero use for some hot-headed sort-of-ex-one-percenter who communicated with secrets and silence, then called it ‘club business’.

  No, Zoe needed someone open, honest and serious. Someone who’d treat her right, and respect her, and who’d be there when she needed them. Someone who’d protect her, who’d keep her safe and close. Someone who’d put her and Keira first – before the club, even before himself. Someone who’d fucking love her the way that she deserved, in all the ways that she needed.

  She needed someone like Scars.

  So hell, yeah, Scars was nailing his eyes on the future.

  And all that he saw when he looked at his future was Zoe.

  Mine. She’s fucking mine and no debate… even if she doesn’t know it yet.

  “And is he?” Zoe said now.

  Torn from his thoughts, Scars stared at her, without a clue what she might be talking about.

  “Is who what?” he asked.

  “Is Saint a saint?”

  His hard face cracked into a smile at that, and Zoe almost swooned. Much like a teenaged girl going all stupid over some boy band, Zoe really, truly, almost full-on swooned. Just when she thought that she liked Scars just fine all scowling and rough, he went and smiled at her.

  Damn him.

  It looked good on him, the smile. Zoe got the feeling that he wasn’t a man who lightened up a lot or often, and so his smile had the beauty of something rarely seen. Like a solar eclipse or the Northern Lights, it was dazzling and all-too-brief… but it was life-changing. Maybe even life-affirming.

  Yeah, she was starting to suspect that her life had just changed irrevocably by meeting Scars Innis – and in her confusion and discomfort at that thought, she took a huge gulp of her drink.

  And promptly began to cough.

  “Hey, whoa,” Scars said, startled at the outburst. “You OK?”

  She nodded – still coughing, tears now streaming from her eyes – and wondered if she’d ever felt more stupid in the whole of her life. One extra-large glug of rum-and-Coke, and she was hacking away like some thirteen-year-old sneaking her first Berry Breeze wine cooler.

  “Zoe?” Scars’ dark eyebrows were all drawn together as he stared down at her. “Can you breathe?”

  She nodded again, managed to wheeze out, “Barely.”

  “What the fuck?” he said. “You dying on me?”

  She waved her hand at her drink, tried to speak, sputtered some more.

  Scars grabbed the glass, took a suspicious sniff, then a massive swig. Zoe watched as his face went all thunderous and he hollered over at Cole.

  “Hey! Asshole!”

  Cole turned, his face the very picture of innocence as he took a heavy drag from his cigarette. “You calling me, Veep?”

  “Damn right I am. Did you actually put any Coke in this?”

  Cole grinned, not looking even remotely abashed. “Sure. A splash.”

  “Asshole,” Scars said again. “You trying to kill the woman? She said she isn’t a big drinker, then you give her a glass of almost nothing but dark rum with no heads-up? Come on, man. Fuckin’ dickhead move.”

  Cole looked at Zoe, saw the tears still running down her cheeks, and he had the grace to look a bit guilty now.

  “Sorry, Zee,” he said, stubbing out his smoke. “I didn’t think it’d take you down. I just wanted you to relax, have a welcome drink. You aren’t driving tonight, so I really thought no harm.”

  “S’OK,” she said, her voice rough. “I’m good.”

  “Yeah?” Scars said, still watching her closely. “For real?”

  “Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “Yeah, really. I’m OK. And don’t shout at Cole, Scars… I took a too-big drink and practically inhaled half the glass. My fault.”

  “Still an asshole,” Scars growled. “But he’s a generally harmless one.”

  “Aw, thanks, Veep,” Cole said, then switched his attention back to Zoe. “You want me to top that up for you, babe?” He caught Scars’ eye and added, “With Coke?”

  “I got this,” Scars said, still pissed at his bartender. He took his own can of pop, dumped the rest of it in Zoe’s drink, picked up the glass and swirled it around with gentle wrist motions. He set it down in front of her. “Try that, Zoe.”

  Cautiously, she took a tiny sip. “It’s better now. Thanks.”

  “Crisis averted!” Cole said brightly, then he saw Scars’ still-murderous expression and beat a hasty retreat. “You need anything more, you call me.”

  “She needs anything more, I’ll get it,” Scars grated out. “You keep your distance.”

  “OK,” Cole agreed. “She’s all yours, man.”

  Scars glared harder, glad that he’d made himself clear with at least one of his brothers: he was staking his claim on this woman, staking it here and now. Fucking end of any and all discussion, and he’d deal with Wolf and any objections later.

  “Yeah,” Scars said, driving the point home. “She is.”

  Cole swept off, already gearing up to flirt with Vixen, one of the bar regulars and a very willing pass-around who was on more than a passing acquaintance with the back rooms. Zoe and Scars were left to stare at each other.

  Zoe’s head was actually spinning a little bit, and it occurred to her that she was way out of practice at drinking the hard stuff. Throw in some serious sleep-deprivation, exhaustion from her long drive, and the fact that she hadn’t eaten much over the past few days, and you were left with a slight buzz from one hit of damn-near pure alcohol. She shook her head, tried to clear it.

  “You really alright?” Scars asked her, his voice gentle now.

  “Yes.” Her tongue felt huge in her mouth, and she tried again. “I am.”

  He gazed at her, saw that the tears had stopped. He nodded once more, then abruptly and without a word, he sat down next to her. Her immediate instinct was to lean forward, to just sink into his massive chest, but she kicked that down. Hard.

  “So.” Scars shifted that body a bit on the stool, and she watched the way his muscles flexed at even that small movement. “Keira arrives tomorrow?”

  “Uh.” Zoe blinked, readjusted her train of thought to hold up her end of a civil, adult conversation. No way she was going to admire the hot man in front of her and talk about her sweet baby at the same time. “Yeah. My friend Willa is bringing her. I pick them up just before noon.”

  “How old is she? Keira?”

  “Almost a year. A year in a little less than a month.”

  “She walking?”

  Zoe smiled, a real smile. “Not yet. Not on her own. She holds my finger and kind of toddles around… but she’s not totally mobile yet.”

  Scars found that he liked that image; he liked it a lot. He paused, dying to ask about Keira’s Dad, but not at all sure how to bring the topic up.

  It was clear enough that the guy wasn’t too involved. If he were, then there’d be no way that he’d let Zoe and Keira just up and move states without one hell of a fight. Christ, if Zoe was his woman, Scars wouldn’t even let her leave his goddamn bed without a struggle. The fact that her ex was letting Zoe start up a whole new life in Denver without protest told Scars that the guy was clearly a dickhead.

  Well, too bad for the ex… but good for Scars. Zoe was in his orbit now, and he wasn’t about to let her float on out of it without a knock-down, drag-out fight.

  He took a deep breath, took the plunge. “And Keira’s father? Where’s he?”

  Zoe shrugged, took a sip of her drink. “No clue.”

  Scars’ heart leapt and he did a mental fist-pump. On the one hand, he was fucking thrilled to hear that, because it meant that the relationship coast was clear for him to move in. On the other hand, he was seriously pissed off that a guy would father a child and then just fuck off on the baby and the mother. It also meant that Zoe was quite p
robably not all that enthralled with men in general, and so Scars could expect some initial resistance and suspicion.

  “He’s out of the picture?” Scars kept his voice casual. “Not in your lives?”

  Zoe shook her head, drank again. “Totally out, totally not involved.”

  Take it easy, man. Ease on in with the questions. Stay cool and slow your roll and for fuck’s sake, don’t push too hard.

  But Scars had never been especially good at tap-dancing around things. Not when he really wanted something, and God knows, he wanted Zoe Parish. So, in his usual bull-in-a-china-shop style, he just launched on in, head-first and throwing all caution and discretion to the wind:

  “You never see him?”

  Zoe cocked her head at Scars, gave him a strange look. “No. Of course not.”

  “So no chance of you getting back together with him?” Scars was determined to get the actual words out of her sexy little mouth. “No way, no how?”

  She gave him an even stranger look. “What?”

  “No chance of taking him back?” Scars repeated.

  “Taking him back?” Zoe echoed, looking completely lost. “We were never together.”

  Scars blinked. “So… Keira was – what? From a one-night-stand?”

  Too startled to even be offended, Zoe stared at him. “Didn’t Wolf tell you about how I got Keira?”

  “Uh.” Scars was finally starting to clue in that there was way more to this story than just some asshole abandoning a woman and his kid. “No.”

  “So what did he say?”

  “Just that you have a daughter.” Scars thought about it some more. “But he said you didn’t even tell him about Keira until she was about two months old. He was – erm – surprised that you hadn’t said anything sooner.”

  Zoe gave a wry grin, sucked down some more booze. ‘Surprised’ wasn’t the right word for what Wolf had been when she’d finally called and given him the news about Keira. Infuriated, enraged, worried, hurt… those were better words to describe his reaction.

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “Well, the whole situation was hard, and it all happened right around the time that Wheels died and Wolf took over as your President. He was up to his eyeballs in trouble and problems, mostly with getting you guys away from Jensen, and he didn’t need me to dump my crap on him. I waited until things settled down a bit over here, then I called him.”