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.
This text didn’t say much, just a quick hello, and that Jimmy was taking to get her drunk off strawberry Margaritas. Zoe shook her head – Willa was an even cheaper drunk than she was – and wrote back for her friend to have fun, buy some Tylenol before commencing the rounds, and to give Jimmy a hug for her.
Zoe then quickly called and checked in at home, confirmed that Maria could stay two hours longer than usual. Zoe hung up, thanking the good Lord above for Maria, yet again. The woman was a God-send, and that wasn’t even a small exaggeration. Keira adored her; she adored Keira and was fiercely protective of the baby.
Yes, Zoe missed Keira desperately while she was away, but she was at Blue Dragon by eight most weekday mornings, doing paperwork and getting things ready for the new ten a.m. extended opening hours, and out by four-ish most days, so she had plenty of time to spend with the baby before her eight o’clock bedtime.
She’d settled happily, gratefully, into the routine of the regular, normal, boring life of a not-so-struggling-anymore single Mom. Wolf was very generous with her pay and benefits, Silver was an incredible landlord, and Maria was well within her financial means, and was reliable, honest, and kind. All in all, this deal that Zoe had made with the devil – or at least The Road Devil that she knew and loved named Wolf – was working out just fine.
Now… to that one last unresolved issue, standing between Zoe and her perfect, calm, predictable little life: Scars Innis.
Saint held the door for her, like the filthy gentleman that he was in his heart, and they went over to Satan’s, chatting the whole way. He was an easy person to talk to, she’d found, unpretentious, funny, irreverent sense of humor. She could see why the ladies loved him, and sure enough, despite the fact that it wasn’t even five o’clock yet, they’d barely cleared the door before two women launched themselves across the room at Saint.
“Hiiiii!” the one breathed, obviously a bit tipsy already. She hitched up her skirt, and Zoe knew – unfortunately and without any doubt whatsoever – that she wasn’t wearing any panties. “Boughtcha a beer, handsome.”
“I did too!” the other one cooed, upping the stakes and unbuttoning her fourth button, which meant that her unsupported breasts were now legitimately in danger of falling out of that sort-of-blouse. “Join me, Saint? Make me a sweet sinner tonight?”
Zoe almost rolled her eyes as the woman stumbled over the succession of ‘s’ words, indicating that she was also halfway to smashed. She also thought the whole saint/sinner thing was a bit cheesy, but whatever, and she was one hundred percent sure that Saint used the ‘sweet sinner’ line often. Probably to great effect.
“Aw, thanks, ladies.” Saint gave them a wide grin, clocked both the shaved pussy and the pert, rosy nipples, and Zoe watched the women swoon. “But I’m here with Zee tonight… another time, OK?”
They glared at her, and she fought down the sudden urge to giggle. Wow, they wanted to rip her hair out of her goddamn head, she could totally tell. She didn’t gloat, though, since it wasn’t like she was ‘with’ Saint, and she never would be.
It was a bit funny, but Zoe wanted to reassure them, in a big sisterly kind of way as they did their makeup together in the bathroom, that she was no major threat because she was a boring single Mom. But they’d already huffed off to the bar, where Cole watched their approach with a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. Zoe wasn’t sure that it was a gleam of lust or desire, so much as a ‘I’m gonna have sooooo much fun teasing and taunting these drunk and half-naked chicks!’. Cole was nothing but a chain-jerker and trouble-maker, at the end of the day, and he was as unapologetically irreverent as Saint, in some ways.
“Sit, sweet cheeks,” Saint told her, gallantly pulling out a chair. “Now, what’s your poison?”
“Erm…” Zoe looked over at Cole, recalling that night when he’d spiked her drink in a one-man mission. “Maybe… just a beer?”
“You even like beer, Zee?”
“Not much. But if you get me a rum and Coke, can you make sure that Cole actually, you know, puts some Coke in? More than a sip?”
Saint’s blue eyes danced. “You sure now?”
“Yeah. I gotta go home to a baby. I can’t be half-buzzing and tired and off my game.”
“Ah, of course.” He slapped his hand on his forehead in a classic, ‘Duh!’ gesture. “Gotcha. Consider it done.”
“Well, OK, then.” She smiled up at him, suddenly very glad to have accepted his offer. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing, sweet cheeks. Hang out, stay cool. Be right back.”
She nodded, scanned the bar, trying to look like she wasn’t looking for him. But she was, of course… she wasn’t looking for anyone else at all. Not even…
“Well, hey, there, baby girl!”
Wolf’s voice boomed out behind her, and Zoe jumped, spun, almost fell off her chair. She recovered, then almost fell off again when she saw Scars standing there next to Wolf. Tall, broad, hair falling over his forehead in messy dark waves that her fingers itched to smooth back. Scowling at her, those amazing blue eyes missing anything like a warm welcome.
“Wolf,” she managed, suddenly feeling like shit that she hadn’t been by to see her oldest, best friend in days. “God, I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you. I just –”
“No problemo,” he said, waving his hand at her. “You been busy, Zee, runnin’ that fuckin’ parlor properly for the first time in forever. The guys come in here after work almost every day, and tell everyone how you’re killin’ yourself to get it together and organized, then goin’ home to be Mom, then you’re back again the next day hours before anyone else shows up. You got your hands full, so if you think I’m gonna knock you for not droppin’ by here every day to get loaded, you’re wrong.”
“Well,” she began, feeling embarrassed. Wolf was making her sound like a damn superhero, and all she was, really, was a single mother… just like the approximately other ten million single mothers in the U.S., many of whom were also holding down jobs while mommy-ing. “It’s not that big of a deal. I mean, it’s no big stress or strain.”
“C’mon, baby girl,” he chided her gently. “You’re doin’ good over there. You’re doin’ good at home. It ain’t easy, but you got this. Let me say that I’ve noticed you’re kickin’ ass, OK? Me, and everyone else.”
Zoe’s eyes jumped to Scars, wondering if ‘everyone else’ included him. But he was glaring around the room, looking everywhere but at her, and her heart sank. She’d pushed him too far, clearly; what she’d said that night in the kitchen had been too much.
Maybe he wouldn’t even give her a chance to apologize.
“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?”
“Nah.” Wolf drank some more beer. “It meant I understood Zee’s home life pretty good, but it wasn’t ’til we talked and hung out that I realized how cool she was. She was laid-back and funny, and she could kick my ass at marbles. Dead shot with a bow-and-arrow too. Bulls-eye every fuckin’ time.”
“Yeah?” Saint gaped at Zoe. “For real?”
“Almost every time,” Zoe corrected Wolf. “Sometimes I missed on purpose. Just so your ego wasn’t smashed to bits.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Wolf chuckled. “I know. Hell, I knew it then. Anyway, we grew up across the street from each other, in the same bad neighborhood. Same bad school, too, for a while, so we saw each other all the time. Survived the drive-by shootings every other week, survived the parents, survived the gangs and drug shit. Made it through.”
“When Wolf patched in with the Devils, what’d you think?” Saint asked Zoe. “I mean, he was, what? Twenty-one when it was made official?”
“Yeah,” Zoe said. “And I didn’t have a clue what it meant back then. I was only eighteen myself, and barely holding on at home with Mom being drunk 24/7, working at a crap tattoo place six days a week to learn the job, and fighting to keep Hailey fed and clothed and in school. Wolf told me he was prospecting, but never talked much about the hardcore shit that he was into already. The violence, the drugs, the gun-running… I honestly thought that an MC was a bunch of guys riding around Denver on noisy bikes, drinking too much, sleeping around with easy women, generally being immature, macho idiots.”
“Well, yeah,” Saint said. “That’s about right, actually.”
Zoe laughed. “It is now, I know, but not back then.”
“No,” Wolf said grimly. “It was bad back then, but the thing is, I didn’t really care. I liked havin’ people watchin’ my back. Never had that before the MC, except for Zee here.”
“We had each other’s backs, Wolf,” Zoe told him softly. “For as long as I can remember, we have.”
They stared at each other, shared a tiny smile. Years and years of friendship were behind that smile. Endless summer nights spent in Zoe’s backyard, lying on their backs and looking up at the stars, just talking and not talking. Countless hours spent under Wolf’s family’s front porch, hiding from one or the other of their violent, drunk, raging fathers, soothing a crying, terrified Hailey, trying to keep her quiet and calm. Uncountable Cokes and beers in long-forgotten dive diners and bars, hanging out and catching up with each other’s lives. Years and years of love, and trust, and die-hard faith, despite anything and everything they’d ever done and chosen. It was really quite something, what they had, and they both knew it. That shared smile said that they knew it, damn good and well.
“So when Wolf patched in, you were cool with it, then?” Saint asked. “Clueless, but cool?”
Zoe paused. “Well… I kind of… got sucked into the life myself. A bit.”
“Wait.” Saint looked riveted and delighted. “You – you hung around The Road Devils? Way back then?”
“No fuckin’ way.” Wolf’s words were clipped. “You kiddin’ me? You think I’d let Zee around a bunch of one-percenters at the age of eighteen?”
“Oh, no.” Saint looked horrified. “It’s just, she said that she got sucked into the life so…”
“Oh, later,” Zoe explained. “Wolf patched in, and then for about six years, I barely saw him. We kind of lost regular touch, I guess, but we talked on the phone and caught up when we ran into each other around town. Then one night, just over six years ago, we met up at a bar for a few drinks, and he brought some of his brothers. I kind of – hit it off with one of them.” Zoe forced herself to keep her tone disinterested, distant. “We dated for a while. Didn’t last long, just a few weeks. But I was around this bar and the clubhouse a bit, but only for about a month.”
Saint nodded, drank some more beer. “You were a short-term biker babe, huh?”
“Yep. Not really my thing, though. Not then, and certainly not now.”
“Damn, sweet cheeks,” Saint said with his sunny grin. “There goes my chance with you, huh?”
“Not a prayer, handsome,” Zoe told him. “Bikers are not my thing.”
“Huh. So… you were hanging around here, what, about six years ago?” Saint said. “Just before my time, then.”
“I guess so.” Zoe shrugged. “I left Denver then, remember, so it’s not like I’ve been around for all the big club changes and all the new members. Missed everything, really. I don’t recognize any of you guys, to be honest. Even the MC guys now who were around back then, I don’t remember.”
“Not even Scars?” Saint asked. “He’s pretty damn hard to forget, if you’ve seen him even once from across a dark, crowded room. He’s a distinctive-looking bastard, and all.”
“Nope,” Zoe said, all casual and definitely not thinking about Scars and Vixen probably fucking wildly in the back room right at the goddamn second. “I don’t know why I didn’t see him all those years ago, but I didn’t. I mean, I wasn’t here that much, but still… I’m sure he’d have stuck in my mind.”
“Scars wasn’t around much back then,” Wolf explained. “He was the club’s main delivery man, remember, Saint? So he was always ridin’ out of state for Jensen. I think he was back here maybe a week a month, total. Easy to have missed him, for sure. Bad timing.”
“Aww, yeah. Of course.”
Zoe looked up sharply. “What kind of deliveries?”
“Doesn’t matter, baby girl.” Wolf waved his hand. “It’s all over. Long over.”
Zoe scowled, sucked back her drink, wished it was stronger. Yeah, she knew what Scars would have been driving out of state for Kirk Jensen. Guns and drugs, for sure. Probably hookers, too.
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.
Why did 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.
She leaned back and away, and his arms released her. She felt a small pang of disappointment that he hadn’t held on, then caught herself. She didn’t want him to want her.
Right?
Right.
“OK now?” he asked, those eyes narrowed to blue flame as he waited for her answer. “Breathing again?”
“Yeah. I’m good. Thanks.”
He nodded. “Seems you’re always short of breath around me. And you’re always pressed up against me outside this bathroom door.”
She flushed, but she couldn’t really argue with the man. Still, his comments weren’t terrifically helpful, all things considered.
“Actually…” She cleared her throat. “Ummm… I wanted to – to talk to you. Alone, if possible. If you’re not busy, I mean…”
“I’m not busy.”
“But…” She looked around, wondering if he’d just finished up and left Vixen in the back room. Maybe they were done already? But that didn’t jive with what she knew about Scars and sex – the man was pure filth, and he took his time. “What about Vixen?”
“Yeah, I gave her a boost.”
Zoe paused, surprised how much it pained her to think of Scars with another woman after all. She opted for humor, though:
“A boost? Is that what the cool kids are calling it these days?”
Scars gazed down at her. He wasn’t touching her anymore, but he was close enough that she felt his body heat. She swallowed, hard, remembering how hot and wet he’d made her. Her pussy gave a tiny twinge, a little pulse, and she fought does the urge to cross her legs to contain the slowly-building, -rising feelings.
“Calling what?” he asked.
“What?”
“What are the cool kids calling ‘a boost’ these days?”
“Uh.” Mortified at just how badly the joke had gone, she flushed what was surely purple by this point. “Uh, you know.”
“Nope.”
“You know, Scars. What you and Vixen were just doing.”
He stared at her some more, then a look of understanding flashed over that hard, damaged face.
“Ohhh, wait up.” He cocked his head at her. “You think me and Vix were off having sex.”
“Well… yeah. You ‘gave her a boost’.” Zoe put air-quotes around the phrase, still pathetically trying to pass it off as a joke. “I figure that’s Road Devils in-house slang for banging.”
“It’s not,” he said crisply. “I actually gave the woman a boost. Her car battery was dead.”
“Oh.” Zoe wondered if she could feel any stupider, decided on the whole, probably not. “Right.”
“What do you care if I’d been banging Vix, anyway?” he demanded suddenly, and most inconveniently. “It’s not like I’m a taken man.”
“Oh, I know.” She scrambled to retrieve a mere smidgen of her dignity. “I mean… I know you’re not. So… so could we talk? Please? It won’t take long. It can’t take long, because I have to get home to Keira by nine, so you know – I won’t take up too much of your evening… but if you can’t now, maybe we can –”
“Zoe,” he said, mercifully cutting off her rushing tidal wave of rambling inanity, and saving her from having to seek a hole to swallow her up. “It’s fine. Now is fine.”
“Oh. OK, then.”
“C’mon.” Gently, he turned her whole body, kept his hand on her lower back as he guided her to the manager’s office. “In here. It’s sound-proofed so I can actually focus on paperwork and take calls, even when the music is blaring, so it’s quiet enough to talk.”
“Alright.”
Scars unlocked the door, and waved Zoe inside. She looked around, curious despite herself about where Scars spent so many of his working hours. She suspected that even though lots of the bar staff used this space, the majority of its usage fell on the man standing in front of her right now, turning on lights and bustling around a bit, moving stacks of paper and what looked like boxes of alcohol.
It was a good-sized office, much bigger than hers over at Blue Dragon. It was better laid-out too, although it didn’t have a window. Zoe needed natural light to think straight, loved the skylight above her desk, so she wouldn’t ever trade her cramped office for the extra square footage of this one. She’d kill for that massive leather sofa, though, and for the sprawling desk. Her own desk was maybe half the size, and Zoe was big into spreading out when she was working.
“OK.” He locked the door out of habit, then walked over and sat behind the desk, indicated at the chair in front of it. “What’s up?”
“Uh, well.” Zoe sat down, trying hard not to fidget as he stared at her in that totally disarming, stripping-flesh-off-her-bones way that he had. “I just – I wanted to tell you that I’m – that I feel really bad. About that kind of… well. That kind of judgmental and mean thing that I said to you.”
“Which time?” he asked wryly, but not in a nasty or asshole way, more in a ‘gathering the facts’ way. “You’ve had a few choice words for me, on a few separate occasions.”
“Uh… yeah. I – I guess that’s true.” Zoe blinked, suddenly realizing just how much of a thunderbitch she’d actually been to the man. Well, high time to make it right, and the fact that he was still sitting here and listening to her babbling was a minor miracle. “So, I’m sorry for every time, but mostly, for the last time. In the kitchen… what I said in the kitchen.”
“Ah. Yeah. The kitchen.” He grinned, and she relaxed a bit at his good humor. “Not the bar back room or the tattoo place. The kitchen. That occasion of a few choice words.”
“That one, yes. I – oh, shit, Scars. I was way out of line. I’m sorry.” Zoe struggled to find the words, surprised how much it mattered to her that she get this right. Suddenly stopping at ‘I’m sorry’ just didn’t feel like enough. “I’m – I’m horrified at how I behaved, and I’m embarrassed. You were so great with Keira and bringing me dinner, and I just… I was rude. I was more than rude. I was – what I said was unforgivable, but I still want to ask you to forgive me. If you can, I mean. I’d like to ask – I’d like to ask if you could please forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven.”
Zoe blinked. “You just… just like that? Just… forgiven?”
“Sure. Why not?” Scars shrugged, got to his feet, glanced at the clock on his cell, fiddled with some papers on the desk. “Life’s too short for grudges, right? We’re good.”
“Uh.” Zoe stood up too, though she felt unbalanced. She thought he’d make her crawl, if he didn’t just tell her to drop dead. This easy grace, this automatic kindness, it took her aback, and quite a bit. Then again, his refusal to be a dickhead about her being a thunderbitch made the next part a bit easier, too. “So… then we can be friends?”
Scars stopped dead, and stared at her like she’d sprouted a second head, right there in front of him. “Friends?”
“Uh, yeah.” She watched him walk around to her side, his steps slow, measured, deliberate. He advanced on her, and she almost backed up, then she remembered that he’d never hurt her. So despite being wary, nervous, uncertain, she stood her ground. “Is that OK with you?”
“Uh, no.” Scars was looming over her now, all six-foot-four of him, every muscle in that mountain of a body rigid with anger. “Like hell it’s OK with me.”
“But you just said –”
“I said all was forgiven. I never said I wanted to be your goddamn friend.”
“So, you mean…” Zoe’s voice trailed off as she stood there, totally lost. “So… what do you mean?”
Scars gave her that smile now – the dangerous one. The one that she loved, even if she refused to admit it to anyone. Not even herself.
“I mean, baby, that I have exactly zero fucking interest in being your friend.” His voice was pure molten growl, and it hit all her soft, sweet spots. “We’re not friends, you and me, because I don’t want to do with my friends what I want to do with you, and to you.”
“What?” she whispered, lost in those eyes, eyes so deep and blue, she wanted to dive in and forget the world. “Scars…”
“Nuh-uh. You shut that hot little mouth, and I mean now. You talked, said what was on your mind, so it’s my turn.” He paused, nodded when Zoe stayed quiet. “Good girl. You’re learning, at long goddamn last, to listen up and do what you’re told.”
Her eyes flashed with rage, and she actually growled right back at him, deep in her chest. He waited, knowing that he’d pushed a button pretty damn hard – stomped on it with his motorcycle boots, to be more precise – and he wanted to see if she’d listen to him for the first time, ever. He gave her time to decide if she was going to open those pouty rosebud lips, and say anything.
She didn’t. She glowered, she glared, she looked like she wanted to knock his head off his shoulders… but Zoe didn’t say a single word. He grinned.
That’s so much fucking better.
“Now,” he said in a conversational tone. “As I was saying, I don’t want to be your friend, beautiful, so don’t bother asking again. It’s not happening, and that’s it, end of fucking discussion. What I do want is for you to open your goddamn eyes and see that we’re good together. No… we’re great together. We want each other, and not just to fuck like wild animals, as good as that was and I won’t be turning down a repeat performance if it’s on offer. Besides the hot sex, we also have chemistry, and we like each other, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s all enough to at least try to make a go of it.”
Scars paused again, cocked his head at her. She was silent, though, just staring up at him, all wide-eyed shock and awe in those gorgeous green eyes. He smiled again, suddenly realizing that as much as he adored fiery, feisty Zoe, he was finding newly-compliant Zoe a serious turn-on.
“You’re fighting me, you’re fighting us, and you’re fighting yourself.” He raised a hand slowly, watching her reaction. When she didn’t flinch or move away, he rested it against her delicate throat. He didn’t wrap it around, or press hard… he just laid it there, felt her heart rate speed up, pulse, pound against his knuckles. “Now you can fight, if that’s what you need to do right now, but hear me when I say this, beautiful: I won’t be your friend. I won’t fucking sit with you at a table out there in the bar, and chat about sports or the weather or last night’s episode of CSI. I won’t act like you’re a work colleague and nothing more. I sure as hell won’t watch you flirt with other guys and my brothers, and pretend I’m cool with that, ‘cause I’m not. Never will be.”
His fingers curled now, and he twisted his hand around. He was holding her neck, just a bit, not hard, but he was making a point. And the point was you’re fucking mine. Face it when you’re ready, but don’t pretend it’s not true.
“Get this part straight in your head, baby.” Scars was speaking in a low rasp now, his thumb slowly stroking the tender, vulnerable flesh, making goosebumps rise with every lazy back-and-forth. “I forgive you for being a stone-cold bitch, that’s no problem. I accept your apology, with an open heart and no reservations. But I don’t accept your lame-ass offer of friendship. I reject it, totally and fully, and I don’t care if that’s harsh. What I will do is wait for you to open your eyes, and admit to yourself that you need me as much as I need you. You’ve ruined me for all other women, baby… utterly ruined me. My God, Zoe… I’m yours for the taking, don’t you know that?” His rough fingers stroked the length of her throat and she arched, just a little bit. “Just reach out and take me, beautiful. Do it.”
Zoe’s breath caught at his words. The fact that he was throwing her friendship straight back in her face was a shock, like he was jumping all over a peace offering, or slamming the door in the face of a neighbor bringing over a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ pie. Nobody did that, right? Nobody said, ‘I don’t want to be friends with you! Shove your stupid cake!’. Nobody but goddamn Scars Innis, apparently.
But the fact that he was inviting her to… what? Take him? Just reach out like he was an apple or a pear, and pluck him off a tree? Like he was sitting there, all ripe and ready and bursting with flavor, all warm and inviting in the sun, just hanging out and waiting for her?
She didn’t know where to look all of a sudden. She was feeling very exposed, very uncomfortable, very aware of his breath and heat and strength.
She was also feeling very turned on.
Goddammit.
Zoe didn’t know if it was his body or his words – or both, most probably it’s both, because it’s always both – but she wanted him to touch her. Pull her close. Kiss her. She wanted him to stretch that huge body the full length of hers, and take her, just take her like he did that night.
That one amazing, incredible, life-changing night.
A night that she spent way too much damn time thinking about, and wanted a repeat of way too damn much.
Her gaze focused on his lips now, those lips that knew her most intimate places and parts. God, the man could kiss, he kissed like the devil himself – and suddenly, Zoe knew that she’d sell her soul right here and right now for a kiss from Scars.
Just one. What would one hurt?
No, no, no. Zoe. No.
“Baby,” he murmured now, his voice lower than usual. “You’re staring at me. What are you thinking?”
“Kissing you,” she said, before she could stop herself. “But… I won’t.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll kiss you.”
“You –”
That was all she got out before he was on her, rough and demanding, no preamble or building up in intensity. He took her mouth, took her the way that she’d been longing for – and Zoe went weak in the knees immediately. She sagged a bit, let herself lean into him, hand over to him.
It felt so… easy. So right.
Scars tightened his arms around her as he felt her sway, then surrender. He was stunned at the utter lack of token resistance from her, and that was a huge relief. He’d never once forced a woman to accept even so much as a kiss from him, and even though he knew that Zoe wanted this (she’d even come right out and said that she wanted this), he didn’t want to wear her down or manipulate her.
No, he wanted her to want this too, without shame or worry or second-guessing herself. He wanted her to accept her own wants and desires, and embrace them, and revel in them. He wanted her to ask for his kiss and beg for his touch.
So her kissing him back like this, without an intake of breath or stiffening in shock, was a big step. At least, he hoped it was.
His kisses were savage, hard, passionate. He didn’t care about going slow or being gentle or building things up, not this time. He’d gone from zero to sixty in less than half a second – and from her little moans and trembling body and harsh breathing, Zoe was fully on-board with it.
And thank fuck, because he’d been burning up for her for weeks now.
Without a word, he shoved her backwards until her lower body was pressing against his desk. She gave a small, shocked cry, and her arms tightened around him.
“Easy, baby,” he muttered into her open, panting mouth. “Be a good girl and lean back now.”
“What –”
With a growl of impatience, he slid his hands under her ass, lifted her, lowered her until her back was on the desk, and her legs were wrapped around his hips. She gasped, clung to his shoulders and neck as the world tilted and went sideways. Her body was tense now, her body starting to come up off the wooden surface beneath her. Papers fell to the floor like snow, scattering under his feet.
“Lean back, I said,” he rasped, his large, hard body pressing against her frame. “I’m not going to ask again.”
She stared up at him, and suddenly, a hint of confusion was in those luminous green eyes.
“Oh, no, baby. Don’t do that.” He kissed her more gently now, little kisses that dusted over her perfect cheekbones, her pert little nose, her rosebud lips. “Relax, Zoe. Please.”
Unbelievably, she did. Her upper body lowered to the desk, her legs loosened around him, her arms rested on the desk beside her. And Zoe just lay there, quiet and watchful under Scars’ heated, molten gaze. Watching him watch her.
When his hands moved to the snap of her jeans, paused, stilled, Zoe shut her eyes as every sensation on earth washed over her, inside and out. He didn’t move, and she knew that he was staring fixedly at her face. He was waiting, and she knew that she wanted what he wanted to give her. Just tonight, just a little bit, just for a little while.
God, I’m lonely.
She opened her eyes, and found herself arching under that blue stare. Offering herself to him, opening herself to him.
“Yes.”
“Yes, baby?” he breathed, his hands still unmoving. “Really yes?”
“Yes.”
That was all that he needed, she saw. He was sure that she was sure… and he was off.
Her boots were unzipped and off in thirty seconds. Her jeans were unsnapped and down and on the floor fifteen seconds after that. Her panties and socks joined them five seconds later. And his fingers were on her hot sex two seconds after her lower body was fully exposed to his eyes, his hands, his mouth.
Oh, Lord, his mouth.
He kissed his way up her thighs, his fingers still stroking and teasing her. He reached her pussy, and his tongue replaced his fingers so quickly, so seamlessly, that it took her a few seconds to realize what he was doing.
“Scars!” she gasped as he licked her hot center, long, slow sweeps up and down her full, aching length. Her eyes slammed shut to more fully experience the pleasure. “Oh, my God…”
His response was to zero in on her clit now, to give it fast, hard flicks, and when her spine started to vibrate, he backed up, slowed down, returned to his lazy, deep strokes with his tongue. Tasting her fully, lapping her sweetness. Sucking her nectar into his mouth before greedily plundering for more.
Zoe was rapidly losing control. She was vaguely aware that her hands were buried in his dark hair, that she was digging her heels into the desk so her raised hips met and moved with his kisses, that she was moaning and begging and saying his name over and over.
Suddenly, he was gone, and she opened her eyes, bewildered.
“You’re close, aren’t you, beautiful?” he said, his voice breathless. “I can tell you’re gonna come for me any second.”
She nodded frantically, choking on words, needs, desires.
“Well… you’re gonna look at me when that happens, Zoe. Don’t you dare to close your eyes. You let me see it wash over you, you let me see that you know what I’m doing to you. I want to see how much you enjoy it, how bad you need that sweet relief. Clear?”
She nodded again.
“Say it, baby.”
“Yes,” she said brokenly. “Clear.”
Scars leaned over her now, his weight on his left hand that was clenched in her tousled curls spread over the desk, his right hand between her splayed legs. He gripped her hair hard, held her head in place, exactly where he wanted it. She couldn’t move an inch either side, and she loved it, loved the way that he’d just taken control, so simply and completely.
“Now,” he whispered as he slipped two fingers inside her. “Look at me while I play with my beautiful angel.”
“Ah!” she breathed, her body straining for more, for everything. “Scars…”
He didn’t respond; he just nailed that hard, astonishing gaze to her face, and watched her as he started to drive his fingers inside her body, in rhythmic thrusts. He moved deep, reached for the heart of her, impaled her to the desk with his touch. Zoe twisted, writhed, shuddered, and he chuckled as she clutched the edge of the desk.
“Huh.” He withdrew his fingers. “I think you need just a bit more.”
“Scars…”
“Mmmm-hmmm. I know, baby. Shhh. Hang on a minute.”
He brought his right hand to his mouth, sucked on three fingers. She felt her pussy spasm as she realized that he was both licking them clean of her arousal and preparing them for more. She moaned and closed her eyes.
“Open!” he commanded as he slid his hand across her stomach. “Now.”
She looked at him, just as he plunged three fingers into her. She gave a wild, low cry, stunned at just how good this man felt. He knew her body, God help her, and her body knew him, too. It felt like his touch was unthawing her, somehow, or bringing her alive in ways that she’d never been before.
“Fuck, baby,” he said in wonder. “The way you look at me when you’re this close… I swear, I can see your soul, Zoe. Give it to me, baby. Give me everything that you have.”
And at his words, she did. Her whole body clenched and released, over and over, and Zoe gave Scars the first orgasm that she’d ever had with just a man’s fingers. She cried out and stared at him, watched his fierce expression as she gave him what he wanted, and the thought that this man could do this to her at a mere touch set her body trembling once more.
“Scars,” she gasped, disbelieving at still being so hungry, eager, needy. “I think I’m going to –”
“Yeah, you are,” he said roughly. “C’mon now, baby. I want another one.”
“I – I –” She threw her head back, breaking eye contact, and even though his hand tightened in her hair again, he didn’t seem to mind this time. Her neck arched, and she dug her head into the desk, her palms pressed flat to brace herself for more. “Oh… oh, God…”
The three large fingers were pushing harder now, using her slick release to help find that sweet, melting spot so deep inside. Mindlessly, she helped him by lifting her hips a tiny bit, and just like that, with that slight change of angle, he hit it, hit the hidden, secret place that she’d only ever located with her magic vibrator, the one that angled just the right way. She screamed, and Scars rubbed his thumb over her throbbing clit.
“That’s it, baby.” He pressed on her little pearl, let up, pressed again, the whole time pushing on her g-spot in tiny, controlled thrusts. “Let it go, Zoe. Let it all fucking go.”
“Scars…” It was a sob, a plea, a prayer. “Please… please…”
“I know, baby. You’re there… go on, now. Go over the edge. I’ll catch you, I promise.”
When she came this time, she couldn’t make a single noise: all Zoe could do was let herself get washed away by the waves, let herself turn into an exploding star of sensations.
She let go of every single earthly, grounded, logical thing – and she let herself fly.
When she opened her eyes again, she was surprised at the moisture on her cheeks, on her thighs. Scars was stroking her tumbled hair back off her forehead, his large right hand on her belly, gently holding her in place. At her tears, his face softened, softened in the way that she’d seen that night in the back room, and he kissed her lips. She tasted herself on them, and she was taken aback at how sweet she was in his mouth.
“That was incredible, baby,” he muttered, and she smiled, knowing that he meant it. His fingers moved up her stomach, between her breasts, over her lips. They were soaked with her release, and she blushed. “You are just the most amazing, delicious little thing, you know that?”
“I –”
The loud, almost-aggressive knock at the office door scared the life out of Zoe, and she jumped. Scars turned with a curse, and bellowed at the door.
“What?”
“Scars? We gotta talk, man. Now.”
“Wolf,” Zoe whispered, and she squirmed away from Scars, off the desk. “Oh, no. No, no, no.”
“What?” Scars said, watching her scrambling to collect her clothes and boots, admiring her tattooed curves even in her obvious panic. “What’s the problem?”
“Shhhh,” she hissed. “Don’t let him know that I’m here.”
“What?” Scars said for a third time. “Why the fuck not?”
“Scars!” The door handle started to turn, then when Wolf found it was locked, he gave the door a hearty kick. “No fuckin’ joke, Innis. Whoever she is, she can wait.”
Zoe squeaked and dashed out the second door, the one leading to the emergency exit. Scars watched, utterly stunned and in shocked disbelief, as she actually ran out of his office butt-naked – chances were that nobody was outside that door, to be true, but still. The woman had opted to leave his presence butt-naked, instead of letting her oldest friend see her with Scars.
Wait. She’s ashamed of me? Ashamed to have Wolf see her with me?
Jesus. What do I have to do for her?
“Scars!” Wolf thundered. “Seriously, man…”
“OK, OK!” Scars shouted back, grabbing all the papers off the floor and piling them on the desk. “Coming…”
He flung the door open, and Wolf glared at him. “Cummin’, huh?”
“Not like that,” Scars said, though he truthfully had a hard-on that was damn near killing him. “I was actually sleeping.”
“Sleepin’?” Wolf looked around the room. “Alone?”
“Yeah. Alone. So what’s up? Why are you breaking the goddamn door down?”
“Because Kansas and Cole found somethin’ on the tattoo parlor video.”
Scars stared at Wolf, his mind clicking coldly, precisely into place. The finger in the box, left just outside the door, too damn close to Zoe’s office for his comfort. Someone sinister and menacing, lurking too damn close to Zoe for his comfort.
“What’d they find?” Scars demanded. “Did they see someone?”
“Yeah. A man hangin’ around the door from the parlor storage room to the parkin’ lot about two weeks ago.”
“OK. Anything else?”
“Nope. He covered his face and wore a hat, and no car in sight on the video.”
“Does then video show him dropping off the box with the finger?”
“No. It shows someone pushin’ the box over to the door, usin’ what looks like a long stick. Can’t see who’s actually holdin’ the stick, though.”
“So this is all helpful – how, exactly?”
Wolf’s gray eyes flashed. “Watch your tone, Innis. I don’t stand for no snappin’ and disrespect.”
“Fuck, Wolf.” Scars sighed, mentally acknowledging that at least part of his anger was because of Zoe dashing out after such an intense and intimate experience – right there on that goddamn desk, where he now had to work every day. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, OK? I guess I just hoped for more, you know? I’m frustrated and worried. I don’t like any of this.”
“I’m with you, man. But what can we do, except keep an eye out for him comin’ back?”
“Was he touching the door?”
“Nope. Just hangin’ around it. Looked like he was waitin’ for someone to come out.”
“Zoe?”
“Dunno. I think probably not. I mean, if it’s Dawson or one of his merry idiots, then what would they want with her?”
“What would they want with any of us at this point?” Scars rejoined. “And I thought we’d decided that it wasn’t Dawson and his idiot crew?”
“Fuck, man. I’m not sure anymore. I just don’t know what to think.” Wolf ran his hands through his hair. “Nothin’ about any of this makes any fuckin’ sense. I’m wonderin’ if maybe we should ask Dawson for another meetin’.”
“Just ask him straight out if it was him or his boys?”
“Yeah. I mean, if it’s him, maybe he’s usin’ this s a way to get us back to the table for another crack at workin’ with us. And if it ain’t him, maybe this would be his first hearin’ about his own boys workin’ without his knowledge, and he’d take care of it for us. And if it ain’t him or his crew, we can stop focusin’ on them completely, and start considerin’ other motives and possibilities.”
“Hmmmm.” Scars thought about that. “Actually, that’s not a terrible idea, Prez.”
Wolf barked out a laugh. “Yeah, well. I do get a bright idea from time to time.”
“So… want me to ask Ice to set it up?”
“Yeah, man. Go ahead.”
“When do you want to meet him, if he agrees?” Scars paused. “We do have that thing on Tuesday…”
“I remember. So have Ice set it up as soon as possible after that Scars.” Wolf sighed, shook his head. “Hell, if I had my way? I’d set it up for fuckin’ yesterday.”