Page 107 of The Devil's Scars

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Wolf was sitting in Scars’ room reading a text from Kansas (who was standing in the police station getting an update from the cop assigned to the Blue Dragon case), when a long, low groan came from the bed. Scars had been making sounds of pain for the past two days, of course, but this one sounded different. More aware.

Quickly, Wolf pocketed his phone, leaned over the bed. “Scars? Hey man, you there?”

“What the actual fuck?” Scars grated out and Wolf grinned. As the first words uttered after a resurrection, he’d take them. “Wolf?”

“Yeah.” He leaned down farther to meet Scars’ fuzzy gaze, then gently grasped his Vice-President’s arm when he tried to turn over to face Wolf better. “Stay on your stomach, man. You’re attached to an IV and your back is – injured.”

Those blue eyes blinked, sharpened, focused, and suddenly, it was Scars Innis looking up at him. Fully present and alert. And worried.

“Keira?” Scars said, his voice rough. “Zoe? The guys? The parlor?”

Wolf grabbed the glass of water on the bedside table. He adjusted the straw, extended the drink to Scars, who drank it down slowly.

“Tell me,” Scars said, his voice stronger, clearer. “Tell me everything.”

“You got it.” Wolf sat down again, moved the chair closer so Scars could see his face. “First, Keira is fine. Really OK. You got her out, man. Minimal damage.”

“Burned?” Scars was terrified that that sweet little girl was going to have to go through life carrying the marks forever. “Scarred?”

“No. Some trouble breathing from smoke inhalation, but she’s doin’ good now. Nothin’ permanent. She can probably go home in two or three days.”

“Thank Christ. Zoe?”

“Not sleepin’ and barely eatin’ but she’s game. Been in and out of here about ninety times a day to check on you. You’ve been out for two days, and she’s gettin’ fed up with your unconscious man routine.”

Scars cracked a tiny smile. “Anyone else hurt?”

“Wait up… I need to go get Zee.” Wolf stood up. “She needs to know you’re awake. And I need to tell the doc, he was just here toppin’ up your pain meds, so I know he’s around…”

“No!” Scars’ whole body jumped with the vehemence of that single word, and he moaned in pain. “No… Wolf. No.”

“Hey, hey.” Wolf was alarmed. “OK, alright. Stay calm. No movin’.”

“I won’t move if you don’t go get Zoe.”

“But – she needs to know. She’s been goin’ out of her mind with worry.”

“Not yet. Please. Look, like you said, I have enough painkillers, so I’m not in any pain, right? And I need to know some stuff.”

“Ohhh-kaaaay.” Wolf’s unshaven face crinkled in confusion, but he respected his brother’s wishes and sat again. Right away, Scars visibly relaxed. “Ummm. What did you want to know?”

“The guys? Are they all OK? And the parlor?”

“Oh, yeah. A few burns on Saint’s arms, but that’s it. And as for the parlor, what fuckin’ parlor? Gone, man. Burned to the ground, pretty much. We have to tear it down and start again from scratch.”

“How the hell did this happen, Wolf? Was it an accident?” Scars’ blue eyes widened as memory started to return all of a sudden, like the sun breaking through a thick haze of gray. “Wait, wait… there was a voice. A man’s voice. He – he was talking to Keira, and we were running back to the parlor, and then the explosion… he did this. He did, right? The guy in Zoe’s office.”

“Yeah.”

“Who the hell was he?”

“Gil Purdie. Keira’s Dad.”

Scars did a double-take. “The guy who killed Zoe’s sister? The guy on the run in Mexico?”

“One and the same.”

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