Page 24 of The Devil's Scars

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.

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