Page 4 of The Devil's Scars

“That’ll do for now.” She stood up, peeled off her jean jacket. Wolf eyed her full breasts in her tank top with automatic male appreciation, and she huffed at him. “Eyes off the girls, Connor.”

“Sorry.” He grinned, charming as hell, decided to tease her a bit now that some of the tension had passed. “Can’t help it. You’re a hot piece.”

“Urgh. Really?” Zoe put her hands on her curvy hips, and he grinned again at the endearingly familiar stance: she was raring up to hand him his balls, just like she’d done for the past two decades. “You fucking sexist dickhead. Call me that again and I’ll call you nothing but ‘Calvin’ and I’ll make a point of doing it in front of the guys and your slavering hordes of women.”

He shuddered at his civilian name that he’d tried hard to forget. Who the hell named their kid ‘Calvin Connor’? “Fuck. OK, deal. No more comments aloud about your sexiness. I’ll just keep my thoughts to myself.”

“Good plan. You’ll live longer. Now, you get me what I asked for, and then you beat it. I’ll take a few hours, check things out, and we’ll talk again after.”

“OK.” Wolf headed to the back office. “Gimme twenty minutes to sort it all out. The coffee’s fresh, so help yourself. And I’ll get Rebel to make you some breakfast, OK?”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

Zoe poured a large cup of Wolf’s usual industrial-strength coffee, and took a grateful sip. Sleep was a hard-to-come-by luxury in her life, and caffeine was her fuel. She’d almost decided that she liked it black by now, though she suspected that sleep-deprivation may just have dulled her taste buds.

She wandered over to the large front window of Blue Dragon Ink, and stared out at the parking lot. It was still pretty empty, and no big surprise: the only other businesses around here were Satan’s Bar and The Garage, both owned by The Road Devils. The garage was doing a full inventory and was closed that day, and the bar was open at noon to the general public. Of course, it was open 24/7 for Road Devils members, but she doubted that many of them would be around at ten a.m. on a Friday.

She sighed, wondering just what the hell had possessed her to let Wolf talk her into this insanity. Because if Zoe was being honest with herself, she’d have to admit that she was really, truly considering coming back; even after it all and what she’d gone through to get away, she wanted to come back. Wolf Connor was the only man from the group of asshole MC members that she’d even listen to about coming back.

Yeah, he was a lot of things, and she knew just how many bodies he’d put in the ground. But he was like her brother, for all of that, and despite the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in years, and he’d never put her in the line of fire. He’d die before he’d let her get hurt again. She’d never forget the rage on his face when he saw her tied up on that table – or how tenderly he’d wrapped his own shirt around her shaking body, and held her as she’d wept. If he was telling her that Blue Dragon Ink was legit and she was safe, it was, and she was.

And so standing in the blazing sunlight, clutching her coffee, Zoe finally faced facts: she needed this. She needed what Wolf was offering her. Life in North Dakota wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t anything close to great, either.

Her current job at the tattoo parlor barely covered her expenses, and now that she had Keira, she was struggling. Like, really struggling. The money she’d earn in Denver was more than double what she was making in Fargo, and even though the cost of living was higher here, she’d easily be able to afford a small apartment, and her car payments, and food and clothes for a growing baby. She could make a go of it, for real. Life could and would be better, and she owed it to Keira to give her this. Fuck, Zoe deserved a break too, didn’t she? Just a little one?

And she could handle being around The Road Devils again, couldn’t she? Besides Wolf, she’d limit contact with them almost completely – stay at the tattoo studio most of the time and deal with her employees, maybe drop by the bar for a quick drink once a month, just to say hi to the guys. Be friendly, be polite, but be unavailable for anything more than tattoos, and the occasional game of pool. No need to become best buddies with any of them; definitely no need to get involved with any of them. No good ever came from that, God knows.

So basically she was acting like a bratty kid sister, and just fucking with Wolf, asking for the papers and playing coy. The truth was that her mind was almost made up.

Oh, who the hell am I kidding, huh? I’m coming back to Denver. This is home, and it always has been.

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