Page 13 of The Devil's Scars

Chapter Four

The next morning, Zoe struggled up the steps to the house, her arms loaded down with grocery shopping. This was her third trip out and back in four hours, and she was ready to collapse on the floor. But first she had to unpack her beloved mint chocolate-chip ice cream.

She dragged herself across the living room to the kitchen, plunked the bags on the counter, started to unpack the food. She did that, and then with nothing but happiness in her heart, she fell on the sofa, exhausted.

As she lay there with her eyes closed, she worked hard to summon the energy to drive the twenty-plus miles out of the city to IKEA. She groaned aloud at the thought of facing the Saturday crowds, but Keira needed a crib and a changing table and a high chair, so Zoe’s choices were limited here. If she had more time, Zoe would find something second-hand, but the baby would be there tomorrow, and shoving her in a dresser drawer to sleep was a no-go.

“Argh,” she muttered to herself. “OK, move your ass, Zoe. Baby needs a bed.”

She got to her feet, took a deep breath. Just then her cell rang. She glanced at the number, answered.

“Hey, Wolf,” she said. “What’s up? How’s Fort Collins?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I for sure won’t make it to the party tonight,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ll need to stay here another night.”

“Things not going well?”

“Things are fine. I just want to make sure all the loose ends are tied up.”

She knew better than to ask what that meant. Yeah, The Road Devils may have been running their businesses legally, but she wasn’t so damn sure about more personal shit. And what Dawson had done was nothing but personal.

“Yeah, OK.” She shifted her weight a bit, trying to stretch out her sore lower back. “So I won’t show up either.”

“What?” Wolf said. “How come?”

“Because I don’t know anybody but you, Wolf.”

“You know Kansas and Silver.”

“Um. Not really.” She sighed. “Besides, I’m wiped out, and I still have to head out to Centennial.”

“What for?” His tone sharpened. “What’s out there?”

“IKEA.”

“You have furniture, Zee.”

“Not a crib.”

“Aw, fuck. Of course. Sorry, baby girl… I forgot about that.”

“It’s not your job to remember, Wolf. It’s mine. But I’ve been running in and out all morning buying clothes and food, and now I have to drive all the way out of town, and fight the weekend crowds at IKEA, then haul everything home and assemble it… it’ll take me hours, and the last thing I’ll feel like doing after is meeting a bunch of scary bikers.”

“They ain’t scary.” Wolf considered. “Much.”

“No, it’s OK. I’ll meet them another time. God, I’ll be smack next door to the bar and the clubhouse five or six days a week. Meeting them is inevitable.”

“So skip the party, Zee, if that’s what you want. But no way I’m lettin’ you deal with all this furniture crap on your own.”

She cocked her head. “Huh?”

“Yeah. Not happenin’. I’ll send a few of the boys out to IKEA this afternoon in a cage, and they’ll bring you everything and put it together. What exactly do you need?”

For one of the very few times in her life, Zoe was utterly, completely, totally stunned. The thought of a pack of scowling, leather-clad bikers descending on IKEA’s baby section and perusing cribs – among the happy families, and young couples, and glowing mommies-to-be – was literally breathtaking. Unable to stop herself, she giggled.

“What?” Wolf said, loving that sound. It was so un-Zoe-like, somehow, that sweet little giggle coming out of a tall, tattooed, tough woman. “What’s funny?”

“Where do I begin?”

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