Page 59 of The Devil's Scars

“Excuse me,” Scars said abruptly, not even saying hi to Zoe, already in motion, already moving away from her. “Vixen’s waving me over.”

Zoe’s head almost snapped around as she looked to her left. Sure enough, there was the woman with Satan’s most notorious, nefarious reputation, and in this place, that was really saying something.

Vixen was known as the MC’s favorite ride – and she was rumored to have been with every one of the guys, and multiple times. She was the ultimate pass-around, the quintessential biker’s whore… and she was smiling sweetly at Scars, whilst wearing very little at all, as usual. The woman was smokily and sexily gorgeous, about that there was no doubt, but she had that brazen, aggressive, unpolished beauty of a wild creature. There was nothing demure or elegant or wallflower about Vixen. She was, to her core, an MC bar back room toy, and she was proud of it. s

Zoe watched them talk, Scars leaning down a bit to hear what Vixen was saying over the music. He nodded, gave her a grin, and then they walked out of the main room, down the hallway to the back rooms area. Feeling slightly sick at what amazing tricks Vixen was surely about to show Scars – possibly in the same goddamn back room where she’d been with him just a few weeks before – Zoe forced herself to look back at Wolf. He was gazing at her, those gray eyes missing nothing as per goddamn usual, and she quickly threw up the protective walls. No go though, of course.

“You OK?” he asked. “You look weird, baby girl.”

“I am weird,” she retorted, deciding that jokey self-insults were the way to go here. “You know that, better than anyone.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he replied, grinning broadly. He joined her at the table, then glanced around the bar, taking in everything and everyone. “So… how’s tricks?”

“They’re for kids,” she snarked back, laughing a bit. “And I’m long past being a kid, Wolf. The wrinkles around my eyes tell me so.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wolf nodded at Saint as he set Zoe’s drink down, then joined them. “You’re stunnin’, Zee, and you just get better lookin’ as time goes on.”

“Hey,” Saint said to Zoe. “I heard you two go way back… how long have you known the Prez here?”

“Ohhhh.” Zoe grinned at Wolf, took a cautious sip of her drink, relaxed when it didn’t make her choke like she was dying. “We telling stories tonight?”

“You got some?” Saint cocked his blond head, teasing. “Hell, sweet cheeks… me and the boys would pay big bucks for you to dish on what Wolf was like as a kid. When did you guys first meet?”

“Aw, man,” Wolf muttered, getting to his feet, but not really pissed off. Zoe was just about the only person on the planet who could get away with poking at him like this, and secretly, he liked it just fine. But only from her. “Goin’ to get a beer. Maybe four.”

“Well!” Zoe said brightly, watching Wolf lope off, knowing damn good and well that he wasn’t even mildly annoyed. When Wolf was irritated, there was no doubt whatsoever. “I was ten when we moved to Wolf’s neighborhood. He was thirteen.”

“So – what? Twenty-something years ago?”

“Twenty-two. Met just before school started that year.” Zoe looked over at the bar where Wolf was taking a beer from Cole, and she smiled, remembering the first time that she’d ever seen him. “We pulled up to our new place, and all the neighborhood kids stopped playing and watched us unpack the car, and move the boxes into the house. Wolf was tall and he didn’t smile and he had holes in the knees of his jeans, and I knew he was the ring leader.”

“How’d you know?”

“I’m not sure… just something about the way that all the other kids kept looking at him, but he never took his eyes off us. Me, and my sister, and my parents. He watched our every move, and the other kids were watching him watch us. He paid no attention to them at all, like he didn’t care what they said or did. That’s how I knew that he was the one that everyone looked to. I knew if he didn’t like me and my younger sister, then we were going to have a miserable time on that street.”

“Did he like you right away?”

“Yeah.” Wolf’s voice boomed above them, and Zoe and Saint looked up. “Yeah, I did. Liked her about five minutes after I first laid eyes on her.”

“Because she was cute?” Saint winked at her. “Pigtails and skinned knees in a gingham dress?”

“Nah.” Wolf shook his dark head, took his seat again. “Hell, man, she was tall and skinny and gawky, and was wearin’ shit-brown cords and a mustard-yellow t-shirt. And she had the worst fuckin’ haircut I’d ever seen anywhere, except on her kid sister. I think Hailey’s was worse.”

Zoe laughed, even though she felt the usual pang of hurt in her chest at hearing her sister’s name spoken aloud, as if someone had just stuck a hot needle through her heart. “All true. My Mom thought bowl cuts on kids were adorable, and she did them herself. Cut her own hair the same way, if you can believe it.”

“But you liked Zee pretty much on sight?” Saint repeated, clearly dying to get the story. “How come?”

“Because I watched her with Hailey and her Mom.” Wolf’s voice was soft. He knew this was a sore topic for Zoe, for more than one reason. She heard his unasked question, and gave him a small, sad smile, nodded for him to go ahead. “I could tell that Zee was protectin’ them from her Dad. The way she kept Hailey busy and out of the way. Kept an eye on their Mom whenever her Dad started raisin’ his voice about somethin’ about the move. Quietly brought their Dad another beer without bein’ asked, to keep him calm and happy. I knew what I was lookin’ at because I saw it in my house every fuckin’ day.”

“Alcoholic Dad that had to be handled with kid gloves?” Saint said. Zoe nodded. “Me too. Sucks, huh?”

“Huge,” Zoe agreed, drinking more rum and Coke, and thanking Christ that for all her problems, booze wasn’t one of them. “He left when I was thirteen and Hailey was ten, but I’m assuming that if he’s still alive, he’s still a boozehound to this day. My Mom’s alive and she’s an alcoholic who I have no relationship with, but her problem didn’t really take hold until later. ’Til after Dad left, really.”

“Shit, sweet cheeks. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” Zoe shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“So… you guys had drunk Dads in common,” Saint said. “That was enough to be friends?”

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