Page 20 of The Devil's Scars

Chapter Five

Later that night, Scars glanced around the bar, gauging the mood. So far, so good: the place was packed, the alcohol was flowing, his brothers were pairing off and heading for the back rooms which were exclusively for members of The Road Devils. He saw Jinx head down the hall with the redhead who had a real thing for Wolf – Alyssa, was it? – but since Wolf wasn’t around, she’d make do, he guessed.

“Another?” Cole set down the beer in front of his VP even as he asked the question.

“Nah.” Scars shook his head. “Better not.”

“You’re not on duty tonight, are you?”

“Nope. But I’m not really in the mood to drink. Just bring me a Coke.”

Cole shrugged, snagged the beer for himself. “Alright, man.”

Scars turned to survey the massive room again. He found himself watching a group of women on the dance floor, their moves seductive and sexy as hell. He knew most of them, of course, since they were bar regulars, the kind of women who lived to fuck a biker. Nothing wrong with that, he figured… but it wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to be just another random guy, didn’t want to play musical beds with some chick who’d fucked half his brothers. He wanted more.

A bit depressed at the shitty odds of him finding what he really wanted in this place, he looked away from the miles of taut flesh on display, and that was when the door opened. He looked over, looked away, looked back. His breath stopped and so did his heart, both just dead in his chest.

The woman standing there was nobody that Scars had ever laid eyes on before, but holy God, he knew her. He knew her on a cellular level. In his blood. In his bones. In his heart and in his cock. He’d dreamed about her and he’d waited for her. He’d been looking for her forever, and now here she was.

Just waltzing on into Satan’s Bar.

Dreams do come true, man.

**

Zoe glanced around the bar, trying to spot someone she recognized. She scrambled to recall the faces of the guys she’d met so far – Silver, Kansas, Ice, Jinx – and looked around again, peering through the semi-darkness. Her heart sank; no sign of any of them.

For a few seconds, she hesitated. Just stood there in the doorway and wavered, thought about turning around and leaving. But Zoe Parish was no goddamn coward, and she’d promised herself that she’d at least show up and meet Wolf’s VP. This kind of thing was important, she knew, so she lifted her chin, and headed over to the bar. If anyone would have a clue where Scars was, it’d be the guys serving up the booze.

She crossed the room, deftly avoiding the roaming eyes and hands. Suddenly very self-conscious, she tugged her skirt down a bit farther. No good, though – it still hit her just above mid-thigh, and she was showing off acres of long, curvy leg. The skirt was, clearly, a big fucking mistake.

She got to the bar in one piece, looked around, scooted over to the less-busy side. “Hi,” she said to the guy serving up what looked like shots of Jagger, raising her voice to be heard over the pounding music. “I’m wondering if you can help me?”

“Sure can, babe,” he drawled at her, his dark eyes stripping her naked, drizzling her with chocolate sauce and eating her up. “What can I do for you?”

And we have another point for ‘babe’. Bingo. Time to start drinking.

“I’m looking for Scars,” she said, getting directly to the heart of the matter. “Is he around?”

Scars almost jumped six feet in the air to hear his name come out of that sexy little mouth. He stood up, caught Cole’s eye.

“I got this, man,” he said.

Cole nodded.

“I’m Scars,” he said to her, moving a bit closer. “You need me for something?”

Zoe watched as the man who’d been sitting alone at the quieter side of the bar approached her. Her whole body reacted at the sight of him, but the reaction was confused.

One part of her longed to move forward to meet him, to just keep moving closer until she was pressed up against that powerful chest, because this man? This man was something awesome. His strength just rolled on off him like a tidal wave, and Zoe wasn’t just thinking about his large, tight muscles.

No, this man had something else, something that she’d never encountered in the whole of her life. A strength of character, of personality, and it was as tangible as his hard, chiseled body. In a way, it was surprising that a man with this kind of awesome natural authority would settle for being VP.

That was when the second part of her reaction kicked in – and despite being secondary and delayed, this part won, at least for the moment. The urge to back up, to back away. To run and retreat. Because this man? This man looked like nothing but trouble and God knows, Zoe had had enough trouble to last a lifetime. Maybe two.

His face was the face of a warrior: it was hard, rugged, uncompromising. It was also scarred – scarred badly. The raised flesh running the length of his cheeks wasn’t very shiny, so her trained skin specialist’s eye knew that she was looking at scars from a long time ago. Decades, probably.

Fighting her body’s insane prompts to run for her goddamn life, she stood her ground, eyeing Wolf’s VP warily. Zoe was a tall woman, but Scars still towered over her, and she tensed up even more as he moved closer. She fully expected him to get into her space, so when he stopped a respectful distance away, she was thrown yet again.

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