Page 61 of The Devil's Scars

Running deliveries was some of the most dangerous and best-paid one-percenter MC work, she knew, simply because the things being delivered had a significant street- and dollar-value attached, and any loss or damage to the products hit a club’s bottom line, so the delivery guys got a percentage of the value of whatever they were moving. Also, a delivery was under constant threat of being attacked or stolen by rivals, so the delivery guys had to be armed to the damn teeth, and ready to take out in cold blood anyone who even looked at them funny.

If Scars had been trusted to head up the transport side of things, then it had been because he’d shown himself to be ruthless and murderous enough to handle whatever problems came up. It also meant that he’d chosen protecting illegal drugs and guns over human life… which made him a fucking animal, at the end of the day.

Scum-sucking scumbag. I knew it.

“Sure, it’s long over, you’re right,” she said, still totally casual, then she stood up. “Listen… be right back, OK? Just going to the bathroom for a minute.”

“Another drink, Zee?” Saint asked her, seeing that her glass was empty. “I’ll stand over Cole personally and make sure it’s weak.”

“No, thanks,” she said. “I have to get home.”

“You know you ain’t drivin’, right?” Wolf growled. “Even one weak one is a big deal for you, baby girl, so you ain’t gettin’ behind the wheel.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “I’d planned to take a taxi home, and then bus it back out here tomorrow to get my car.”

“Forget that,” Wolf snapped. “Taxi home, but leave the car keys, and one of the boys will bring it back tomorrow. Just tell me what time.”

“Oh, you don’t have to –”

“Shut it, Zee,” Wolf said. “What fuckin’ time?”

“Wolf, you’re so damn rude,” she huffed. “Jesus.”

Wolf just cocked his head, stared at her.

“Fine, fine,” Zoe said, knowing full well that the man would just dig in and sit there and glare at her all night until she answered the way that he wanted her to. “How about noon?”

“Perfect,” Wolf said. “So now you can get Zee another drink, man, ‘cause she ain’t anythin’ close to even buzzin’ yet. One more is cool. She can handle it, trust me.”

Zoe shook her head, laughed despite herself. God, she adored the man, even if he drove her around the bend half the time. Like a real brother, she supposed. Like the brother that she never had.

She walked down the hallway to the bathroom, making a point of not even glancing at the closed doors leading into the various back rooms. She rolled her eyes – at who, she had no idea, but it made her feel better – and stomped into the bathroom. While she washed her hands, she scowled at herself in the mirror, pissed off that she was pissed off.

Whydid she care if Scars was off fucking the club whore?

Well, OK… maybe care was too strong a word. Maybe she was just annoyed about it. After all, she’d been all gung-ho about finally apologizing for being such a bitch – and now she couldn’t do it, because he wasn’t sitting with her and Wolf and Saint, because he was avoiding her for being a bitch, and because…

Because he’s off fucking the club whore. Argh.

She stormed out of the bathroom, determined to go throw her drink back and get home to Keira, when she walked smack into a tall, broad, solid wall of muscle.

“Oooof!” she said, her breath knocked out of her on impact. She lowered her head, shut her eyes, as her chest smarted a bit. “Owww…”

The large, strong arms that came up and around her were familiar, and they felt good. Damn good. Zoe froze, then without any real thought, certainly without her permission, her body softened, relaxed. Went almost limp in the embrace of the only man who’d ever made her melt at a small, single touch.

“Scars…” she whispered, her eyes still closed. She hadn’t seen his face, he hadn’t said a word, but she knew it was him, knew it in all the ways and places that mattered. “Hey…”

“Hey,” he replied, sounded worried. “You OK?”

She nodded, not quite ready to move away.

“You sure?” His hand rose now, stroked the back of her head, and she curled closer to his chest, loving the grooved ridges and defined edges, even through his shirt. “You walked into me pretty hard. Knocked out your breath?”

She nodded again.

“OK. Take a minute then, baby.”

They stood there, just for about ten seconds, but for Zoe, it was the sweetest, most calming ten seconds of her week. She just stood there and went blissfully blank: didn’t think, didn’t have to make a decision, didn’t care what time it was. She just breathed. She hated to pull away, hated to leave this warm, safe place – but she had to. She couldn’t encourage him in any way. It wasn’t fair.

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