Page 23 of The Devil's Scars

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!”

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