Page 57 of The Devil's Scars

Chapter Eleven

One week later

“C’mon, Zee… just one drink over at Satan’s. Pretty please, sweet cheeks? Hell, I’ll even spring for it, seeing as it’s payday today and all.”

Saint grinned at Zoe, his sky-blue eyes dancing and almost angelic under that tangle of blond hair – but the man was no angel, and definitely no saint. Zoe had been working with him for going on a month now, and he had real, actual groupies. Long-legged, curvy-hipped, large-breasted, heavily-made-up, drop-dead-stunning groupies. They blew up his cell phone most days with texts, and he had a different one meeting him over at Satan’s most nights.

Despite his unapologetic womanizing, though, she had to admit she liked the guy. She wasn’t immune to his honey-sweet charm and teasing after all, and she found herself grinning back.

“Yeah, OK.” She saved the order form that she was working on, and shut the office laptop. “Quick one, maybe. Maria can stay a bit later tonight, she said, but I need to check ’til what time. I don’t think an hour would be a major problem, though.”

“She said maybe yes!” Saint hollered over his shoulder into the main room behind him. From her desk, Zoe heard the laughter, and she shook her head.

Yeah, Saint, Arrow and Viking were always trying to get her to join them for a drink, and hang out after her shift, and just generally loosen up and ‘have a fuckin’ life, Zee!’. She’d resisted, mostly because she’d been genuinely worried about them not respecting her if they saw her relaxed and casual and maybe even a bit tipsy, out of her managerial role… but damned if she hadn’t been wrong about that.

To nothing but her eternal shock, they were good guys. They worked hard. They were skilled at their art. They took it seriously, they listened to Zoe, they pulled their weight, they had her back. Not once had any of them shown up late or hungover; not once had they treated her like a dumb bimbo who got the job because she was Wolf’s friend and had tits.

In fact, when a customer had put his hand on Zoe’s ass when she’d turned around to grab a deeper green for his tattoo, Arrow had pounded him into the floor. He’d then stood over the hapless man, arms hanging at his sides, long black hair wild with rage, large black eyes spitting fire.

“You don’t fucking touch her!” Arrow had thundered as blood had dripped off the idiot’s chin onto the parlor floor. “You never fucking touch a woman unless she says it’s OK! Now get the fuck out of here before I cave your nose into your goddamn skull!”

The idiot had scrambled to his feet and shot out the door, pausing only to throw some cash on the reception desk as he’d bolted past. Zoe had watched him go – his tattoo less than half done –then she’d turned to look up at Arrow.

“You good, honey?” he’d asked roughly, as the other men had watched. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“Noooo,” she’d said, still staring at his angry face. “Ummm… thanks. I mean, it was under control and you didn’t have to do that but… thank you.”

“Fuck that, Zee,” Arrow had said. “Of course I did. I’m sure you can take down an asshole like that on your own, no white knight required, but why should you have to deal with that kind of shit at all? Nah, honey… when you’re here, we got your back, and it makes no difference to any of us if you can handle things like the badass that you clearly are. We’re gonna step in, whether you ask or not.”

She’d glanced around then, and had been a bit touched to see both Viking and Saint nodding in agreement. That was the second that she’d realized – fully and for real – that she needed to drop her guard. Not totally, because that was alien to her nature, and she’d sooner chew off her own goddamn arm. But a bit. A bit she could do.

So agreeing to a drink with Saint over at Satan’s was Zoe removing one more brick from the wall that she’d been built around herself. One more little good faith gesture for the MC guys that she’d started off fearing. One more step forward, like a tiny trust exercise that she was taking part in, though she was the only participant.

Well, actually… that wasn’t completely true, if she were being honest. There was one more person involved, though she doubted he knew it. And if he had known it, he’d never have believed it.

Scars had done exactly what he’d said he was going to do, and he’d disappeared from her life again. He hadn’t set foot in Blue Dragon at all. He hadn’t dropped by the house, not even on a flimsy pretext. He hadn’t approached her when she’d been over at Satan’s for a cup of coffee or lunch, and he’d been there at the same time. He hadn’t even waved when she’d spotted him across the parking lot and they’d made eye contact. Scars had just nodded, very stiffly and politely, from way the hell away, and carried on doing whatever it was that he did.

So she’d gotten what she’d wanted, it seemed: she’d pushed him away for good.

So why was she so goddamn miserable about it every single day at work?

Oh, and not just at work. At home, too. Keira had shunned all her other stuffed animals in favor of that damn pink bunny, so every single time Zoe saw her sweet baby girl, she was clutching the little beast. She slept with it, for Christ sake, and dragged it all over God’s green earth. Maria had laughingly reported that the bunny – whose name appeared to be ‘Panda’ for no reason that Zoe or Maria could puzzle out – came on all their walks to the playground, and Keira had introduced Panda to the swings.

God, when Zoe remembered how gentle and careful Scars had been with Keira, how that hard, scarred face had softened and sweetened… well. It kicked something deep inside her chest.

She was very much afraid that it was her stupid, treacherous heart.

And then she’d turned around and been the bitch of the century to the man. Hell, he’d even brought her a veggie pizza and pretty decent wine, asked about her week at work, been respectful and kind… and she’d been a total thunderwhore.

The undeniable truth was, she owed Scars an apology. She’d kind of shuffled and shifted over the past week, hoping that he’d talk to her and create an opportunity for her to say sorry. She told herself that any weirdness between Wolf’s two best friends was bad for everyone around them. Not that anyone would have noticed the tension and ignoring and avoidance going on, but that was really just a matter of time, Zoe knew. MC’s were like families in more ways than one, and when two family members weren’t getting along, it became noticeable eventually.

So she figured that for the good of the family, and most especially for Wolf, who was going to catch on sooner or later that something was wrong between his VP and his oldest friend, she should try to smooth things over a bit. She kind of waited around Satan’s when she knew Scars was in the office, she lingered around the parking lot when he was getting ready to go somewhere. Hell, she even brought some paperwork from Blue Dragon over to the clubhouse personally instead of sending one of the guys, in the hopes of running into Scars.

But for a lying, low-life, murderous MC member, he’d been stubbornly as good as his word, and he’d steered totally clear of her. He’d excused himself from her presence, he’d left rooms as soon as she’d entered, he’d become absorbed in conversations with other people to not have to speak to her. So now here she was, actively looking for chances to see him and say sorry.

And a relaxed, no-pressure, after-work drink on a Friday seemed liked a pretty good opportunity to do just that. She could just wander on up to the bar when Scars was standing there, say her piece, wander on back to the table. Her conscience and the air would both be clear. Perfect plan.

Her cell pinged on the desk next to her, pulling her out of her thoughts and musings. She picked it up, smiled when she saw the text was from Willa. Jimmy had surprised her with a trip to New Mexico, which Zoe knew Willa was going to love. Cell reception was a bit spotty in the more remote areas, so whenever Willa had a signal, she fired off a quick text, and maybe a picture of a strangely-pink desert or a stunning, majestic mesa rising out of the golden landscape.

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