The Devil's Silver (The Road Devils MC Book 2)

by Marysol James

Delighted, Jo laughed and Scars and Zoe laughed back, so damn happy to be home and with family. At the merriment of her two favorite adults, Keira cracked a grin too.

  **

  Silver turned away as Viking took a call on his cell. Then – as much as he didn’t want to look and as hard as he tried not to look – his gaze was drawn back to Jolene.

  She was laughing with Scars and Zee, and even Keira looked like she was giggling. Whatever the fuck was going on over there, they all looked pretty damn cosy and friendly, and that meant that the blasted woman had won over more of Silver’s family members.

  Jolene was clearly making serious inroads into The Road Devils. It had started with Wolf and Kansas being so blown away by her interview on Monday, carried on with yesterday’s lunchtime performance with his brothers trooping in and out to meet her, and now Scars and Zoe looking like her best friends.

  Goddamn the woman. Why won’t she just fail at something?

  But Jolene didn’t strike him as the type to fail at much: she had a fighting spirit in her, a grit and drive that shone through clear as the sun. It was one of the things that had propelled him to her table at The Red, then back to her cabin, then into her hot little body. She was a damn wildcat under all her school smarts and prim polyester. After all, she’d stood smack in front of him the night before and given him a death glare that would have leveled a small building – and told him basically, ‘game on, motherfucker’.

  Silver had the feeling that if he went into the ring with Jolene, he’d get his ass handed to him in less than a single round. The woman was not here to play.

  He wondered why that thought gave him a little tingle of pleasure.

  The good news was that six of his phone calls that day had been encouraging and positive: he’d sold Jolene hard to his contacts, and the response had been exactly what he’d hoped for. Jolene didn’t know it yet, but she had at lest three pretty awesome job offers coming her way before the New Year.

  Christ, Silver hoped that she’d accept one of them. They’d all be better off in the long run, really. She’d have a better job, one in a nice office with respectable colleagues and a nice bump in salary; he’d be able to see her off with no guilt, knowing that her job was a better fit.

  OK. Maybe not no guilt. Minimal guilt.

  Minimal-ish.

  “Silver. Hey. Earth to Silver.”

  He blinked at the voice, looked to his left. Wolf was standing there with his eyebrows raised and a quizzical look on his face.

  “Hey, Prez,” Silver said, thrilled to all hell for the most welcome of distractions. “You must be happy that Zee is back, huh? Engaged to your right-hand man too.”

  Wolf looked over at Scars and Zoe now, and a rare soft and loving look crossed his hard, handsome face. The man had had a rough life and it showed on him: he wore it like a ragged coat, dragged it around behind him like a clanking chain. Wolf Connor was one of those people that nobody messed with, not unless they had a death wish. He was fierce and feral, except when it came to Zoe and – to only a slightly lesser extent – The Road Devils. Wolf was nothing if not loyal-hearted and he’d proven that time and again. He’d die proving it, Silver knew that in every fibre of his being, straight through to his core and beyond.

  “Yeah,” Wolf said now in that voice that sounded like he gargled gravel every morning before his industrial strength black coffee. “It’s nothin’ but fuckin’ good news with them. God knows they deserve it, too.”

  Silver nodded, took a sip of whiskey.

  “Dawson called me tonight,” Wolf said abruptly, in his usual no-goddamn-bullshit-or-wasting-time way. The man wasn’t big on preamble and Silver knew it, but he was startled all the same. Not so much at the approach: he was stunned that Dawson Kinney was making contact with Wolf. The man was really pushing his luck, in Silver’s humble opinion.

  “What the hell did he want?” Silver grated out. It had been well over a year since Dawson had taken off and started The Blood Crew with a bunch of ex-Road Devils, but Silver was still pissed at the disrespect shown to Wolf and the club. “Is he after any more of us to join his Asshole Crew?”

  “Nope. He was callin’ about Sabotage.”

  Right away, Silver was on high alert; he was also suddenly much less thrilled at the distraction provided by Wolf. Staring at Jolene across the room – radiant and golden and lovely – seemed very much preferable to the conversation that was about to happen.

  “OK,” Silver said. “What about Sabotage?”

  “Dawson and his boys work pretty closely with The Highwaymen, apparently, and Sabotage is the main contact over there. Dawson’s been tryin’ to get ahold of him for almost a week about some delivery, but the man’s gone missin’. No explanation from Fox Patton, nothin’ from his boys, sure as shit no word from Sabotage. Seems like he’s just vanished into thin air.”

  Silver was silent, waiting for the question that might or might not come, depending on how much and what Wolf actually wanted to know. He wasn’t about to lie to Wolf, but he also wasn’t going to volunteer anything that he wasn’t asked to reveal. Wolf may well not want to know anything at all, and was just casually mentioning things to give Silver a heads-up about possible trouble coming down.

  “You were out there last weekend,” Wolf continued. “You saw The Highwaymen, I’m sure.”

  “Yes.”

  “You talked to Fox?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sabotage?”

  “Not exactly ‘talked’. I saw him. We had – a quick encounter. Not a conversation.”

  Wolf studied him, those gray eyes missing exactly nothing. “You see anythin’ that might explain where he’s gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “There was trouble with another MC?”

  “No.”

  “Ah.” Wolf nodded his dark head and Silver knew that once again, Wolf’s street smarts had gotten him to the answer at warp-speed. The man might have been rough and dangerous and lacking in formal education, but you’d be fucking crazy to think that meant that Wolf Connor was slow. “Trouble in-house.”

  “Yes.”

  “You witnessed somethin’? Maybe at The Red?”

  “Yes. First-hand. I got involved, too.”

  “Involved enough that someone might think you were part of the reason Sabotage ain’t nowhere to be seen?”

  Silver was quiet again, but now it was because he was thinking hard. That was a pretty damn good question, come to think of it, and he truly didn’t know the answer. Sure, he’d stepped between an MC President and his Vice when they’d gotten into a physical altercation, and he’d foreseen the mysterious disappearance of Sabotage – but could his interference in any way be seen as linked to the man becoming a ghost?

  Maybe.

  Goddammit all to hell. Yes, maybe.

  “It’s possible, Wolf,” he said. “I mean – I don’t know what happened to Sabotage, I swear it to you on my life. But things between him and Fox have been… tense. Bad. I’ve thought it for a while and Nell confirmed it to me. What happened on Friday was something that should never happen between a Prez and his people, especially not his Vice-President. It was unacceptable. I’m sorry to say that I’m not surprised that Sabotage is missing without a word, and that The Highwaymen are staying quiet.”

  “This thing that happened on Friday that you saw with your own eyes… is it the kind of thing that I’d have a strong negative reaction to?”

  “Hell, yes. If Scars ever raised a fist to you, you’d put him down and in his place fucking fast and hard, and the rest of us would help in a goddamn heartbeat.”

  “Right.” Wolf stared into space for a few seconds then snapped back. “Well… I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ to Dawson. The Highwaymen and their inner squabbles ain’t my damn problem and we don’t do business with them anymore, so I don’t care who’s in charge over there and wha
t they do. All I care about is if there’s any blow-back on my club – and you’re sayin’ it’s a maybe.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. I was there, I got between Fox and Sabotage and I clearly took the President’s side. That may be seen as collusion or at least support for whatever Fox did next.”

  “And you have no idea where Sabotage might be? And what condition he might be in?”

  “Nothing certain. I suspect he’s dead but I don’t know. Beyond that feeling…” Silver shook his head, shrugged. “Beyond that, I’ve got nothing. I’d tell you if I did.”

  “I know, man.” Wolf sighed. “Don’t worry. Based on past experience with things like this, I figure that Dawson will turn his interest to Fox and his boys, start to understand that there was bad blood there. Someone will tell him about whatever happened at The Red and he’ll start to put the pieces together. I can’t see us gettin’ dragged in.”

  “No?”

  “Nuh-uh. I mean, we’ll keep an eye out and I’ll tell Ice right now, but I ain’t gonna lose sleep over a Vice with a shit attitude who got what he deserved. He disrespected his Prez and the code, and he had to have known there’d be consequences. He made his choices – and he probably died for ‘em.”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, good riddance. I always thought he was a prick.”

  Silver laughed. “Join the club.”

  The men shared a quick grin, then Wolf’s face returned to its usual implacable stone. The man kept things under wraps pretty damn well, and Silver admired him for it. No way you got to the position that Wolf had – especially when you considered where he’d come from – without guts and smarts and fearlessness. He’d fought and fallen and bled and killed – and now he was a respected, trusted MC leader running three thriving businesses.

  If Wolf played his cards close to his cut, kept his emotions firmly in check, then he’d learned that that was the way through life for him. He’d learned that it worked.

  Silver watched Wolf head over to talk to Ice. He found himself fervently wishing that he was as a good a card player as Wolf was, that he had the man’s poker face and unshakeable calm.

  Despite himself, hating himself as he did it, he looked back at Jolene. Yes, she was in yet another God-awful and -ugly outfit, one that just hung off dangerous curves and aged her heart-shaped face, but he didn’t see any of that. He just saw her, saw her as clear as he had when he’d first zeroed in on her in that red dress. Sitting all by her sweet self and looking perfectly happy that way.

  He wondered now if maybe he should have left her alone that night. Just surreptitiously stared at her until he’d had his fill, secretly admired her dark beauty from a safe distance, then gone back to his own cabin on his own.

  And there was that ache again – that one that he’d felt just before he’d walked out on her that morning. The ache that told him that he’d miss her once he left, that he was already missing her even as she slept and he gazed at her, memorizing every curve and breath.

  It was different this time, though. This was an ache of realization.

  Silver admitted to himself – finally, you stupid stubborn idiot – that that night with Jolene had been the best time of his life. He hated the word magical because it struck him as supremely fucking corny and eye-rolling and the kind of shit that you read in romance novels… but that’s the word that best described their night together. It was the only word.

  That ache was because he finally understood how much emptier his already empty life would be without the shining, raw memory of Jolene. In her dress, then out of it; in the bar, then in the tub; riding him up against the wall, then curling up against his large frame and dropping off to sleep.

  Without all of that, what sweetness would he have known in his life? Very little. Pathetically little, really.

  Before Jolene, sex with his friends with benefits had been fun and hot and satisfying, sure. But with her it was on another level, it was about more than bodies and touch and orgasm. It was about giving, being vulnerable and open, holding onto the other person for as long as possible because they felt too damn good to let go of and roll away to sleep.

  It was about connection with another human being.

  Silver was a man who’d lived his life since the age of twenty-nine with no interest in romantic connections. Nada, zero, zip. And yet, and yet… somehow Jolene had crawled on into his core and she’d just set up residence there. She was proving impossible to shake loose or move out – it was clear that the woman wasn’t going to vacate the premises without a fight.

  For the first time, Silver realized that he wanted that memory inside him, wanted it to plant itself firmly and grow roots strong and deep, wanted to be able to draw on its beauty for the ugly times in his life.

  He wanted that night with her to be part of him.

  So if he could go back to last Friday at The Roaring Red, would he leave Jolene alone at her table?

  No. No fucking way.

  No matter that it all led to a goddamn mess in his head and heart and life, or that it meant that he was now in survival mode and awash in bad memories. That was the trade-off and he was willing to take it, but just for a little while. Jolene still had to move on to a new job soon and no fucking question about that, because Silver wanted the memory not the reality.

  The memory of Jolene sustained him whole; the reality of her destroyed him a piece at a time.

  It was because of her name, he suddenly saw with a blinding flash of knowledge. It was hearing ‘Jo’ over and over again every day, all around him every single hour that he was at work or around the guys. That awful, hateful name that reminded him of an awful, hateful person. Someone that he never wanted to think about again – and she was being thrown in his face constantly. He’d thought that he could handle it since he was well aware that Jolene wasn’t her… but he was failing pretty dismally, he knew now.

  But that’s why I call Jolene ‘Jolene’ and not ‘Jo’, because in my own head I need to state clearly that she’s not that fucking bitch who ruined my life.

  Silver unhappily contemplated his two sudden realizations, mulled over their implications, then shook himself. This was a party and a joyous occasion, all about celebrating Scars’ astonishing recovery, and his engagement to Zoe, and them moving into Scars’ place together and raising Keira as a family. This night was not about him.

  Slap a smile on your face, you self-absorbed asshole, and go talk to the happy couple who have been through hell and come out the other side together.

  And since Jolene was now at a table with Jinx, way over on the other side of the bar, that’s exactly what Silver did.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jo followed Zoe into Dangerous Curves, then watched in bemusement as a drop-dead gorgeous guy shot over to hug and kiss Zoe in greeting.

  “Zee!” he exclaimed in a Southern drawl as he lifted her off her feet. “You’re back!”

  “Yep,” Zoe said from a height of approximately four feet in the air. “We got back yesterday.”

  He gently set her down again, gave her a huge grin. “Ravishing as ever, darlin’.”

  “Hey,” Zoe said primly, holding up her left hand. “Watch it, Carter. You’re talking to an engaged woman.”

  “No shit!” he exclaimed, clearly delighted. “Why didn’t I get that memo, huh?”

  “Dunno. I thought it was international news.”

  “Speaking of news,” the man said looking at Jo with a wide and winsome smile. “Who’s your friend, Zee?”

  “Jolene, goes by Jo. She’s the new accountant for The Road Devils.”

  “Jo.” The man stuck out his hand and she shook it. “I’m Aidan and I go by Aidan. I’m the bartender here but I moonlight as a smart-ass, albeit a charming one.”

  Astonished, Jo stared at him for a few seconds – just long enough to clock his golden eyes and hair and adm
ire them greatly – before bursting into laughter. Aidan regarded her reaction with delight, then turned to look behind him.

  “Jax!” he bellowed across the noise and bustle. “Mac! King! C’mere, y’all!”

  “What?” another man called back. Through the crowd, Jo saw that he was standing at a pool table and seemed to be attempting a shot. “We’re fucking busy, Carter, and actually why aren’t you busy? I thought I paid you to work here.”

  “Not nearly enough!” Aidan said merrily. “Now stop arguing with me and get over here!”

  With a huge aggrieved sigh, the man set down the pool cue and dragged himself over. He was followed by two other guys, and Jo watched in horrified fascination as the most massive and scariest person that she’d ever laid eyes on (and seeing as she’d met Viking and Ice, that was saying something for damn sure) approached.

  It had to be said, though, that none of these three guys was what you could call ‘small’; Jo felt like a mountain range was moving towards her. A stunning mountain range and she found herself yet again admiring more examples of rough, unadorned, unfussy male beauty. These three were all tall and broad, with hard bodies and harder faces, dressed casually in jeans and tight t-shirts that left very little to the imagination.

  And Jo had recently discovered that she had quite the imagination.

  “Hey,” the man who’d been holding the cue said, his dark-green eyes smiling even if the rest of his muscled height looked scowly. “Zoe! Didn’t see you standing over here, beautiful.”

  “Hi Jax,” Zoe replied, nodding at the other men over Jax’s shoulder as she disappeared into his embrace. “Mac, King. How are you guys doing?”

  “The tattoo queen returns,” said the one with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes, giving Zoe a hug too. “How was California, babe?”

  “Rough, in some ways, mostly emotionally. But weather-wise, pretty damn awesome. Keira loved the beach. I think the kid is part-dolphin, to be honest.”

  “And how’s Scars?” the monster-sized guy asked in a deep voice even more ferocious than Wolf’s. “I was planning to call him next week and check in, but now I’ll ask him over to our place for a beer.”