Page 8 of The Devil's Scars

“Sure I do. One of the guys owns two houses, and he rents one out. It’s standin’ empty now.”

Zoe paused, unsure about renting from a Road Devils member. She pictured mirrors above the bed, yellow walls that reeked of cigarette smoke, a mattress on the floor. On top of that, it was a definite step in the wrong direction if she wanted to limit her contact with the MC. Then again, maybe the guy would cut her a break on the rent and God knows, she needed any financial help she could get at this point.

“Is it a nice house?” she said cautiously.

Wolf grinned. “You expectin’ a fuck pad?”

“Yep. Totally.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but Silver’s place is awesome. Nicer than my place, actually.”

“Tell.”

“Two bedrooms, an open-plan living room and kitchen,” he rattled off, sounding like a property agent on commission. “Furnished, decorated, cuttin’-edge security system. Safe neighborhood, decent-sized yard with a big old apple tree.”

“It sounds… OK.”

“It is.” He shrugged. “Give that pretty head a shake, Zee… you think I’d send you to some fuckin’ hovel in the ghetto?”

“Of course not.”

“So I’ll tell Silver to meet you there this afternoon, if you want.”

“Yeah, thanks.” She figured it couldn’t hurt to look at the place, and if this guy Silver had a creeper vibe, she’d just politely decline to rent from him. “That’d be great.”

“And?” Wolf pushed. “The party tomorrow?”

“Um.”

“Come on, Zee.” He was gentle now. “These guys are my guys… my brothers. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

“The other guys were your brothers too,” she said, before she could stop herself. “He was.”

His eyes flared. “No, they weren’t, and he sure as shit wasn’t. We may have all been Road Devils, but no way I’d ever call a woman-beater or rapist my brother. You know that, baby girl.”

She looked away, focused on the Rocky Mountains in the distance. God, she’d missed them, she realized now. She loved those mountains with every piece of her being; the soaring peaks and craggy faces were the landscapes of her childhood. It was high time to reclaim them, she knew.

“Zee?” He leaned forward. “Hey, look at me.”

She forced herself to meet those hard eyes.

“Never again does anyone touch you like that.” He spoke quietly, forcefully. “I just won’t allow it. No woman gets hit or hurt on my watch – it just ain’t gonna happen. Anythin’ that goes on with us and the ladies in the club and bar back rooms ain’t nobody’s business, if she wants to be there. But the second a woman is in over her head in my club or bar, someone steps in to help. Me, or Scars, or one of the other guys. That’s the deal now, Zee, and it ain’t up for debate. All those assholes who hurt you are either long-dead or gone with Dawson, and ain’t welcome back.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell, yeah. I don’t want that in my club.”

“I don’t want to hang out with your boys, Wolf.” She decided to just tackle this one head-on. “I know I’ll be in their sights while I’m at work, but I don’t want anything more, OK? I don’t want to drink with them every weekend, and I don’t want to be expected to show up for club get-togethers. I don’t want to be branded club property, and I don’t want them to think they can just hit on me whenever they feel like it. I’m not an old lady, and I’m not a pass-around … and I don’t want to be either one of those things. I got shit to do.”

“I get all that, but you’re my family, Zee,” he said quietly. “And so are the guys. I’d like all my family to be together in one place sometimes.”

“Let me think about it,” she said. “See how it goes.”

He nodded. “Take your time. I know you got some demons to wrestle to the ground.”

She cleared her throat. “Does Scars know you’ve hired me?” she said, trying to turn the subject away from that horrible night.

“Nope. He’s out of town on business. I’ll introduce you two tomorrow night. At the party.”

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