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

by Marysol James

  “Ah,” Jo said, nodding her head like she understood anything that had just been said. “Yes.”

  “Anyway.” Aidan set the drinks down, clearly amused. “After you have these, Dillon’s got the next round, and then you’re on your way home.”

  “We are?” Zoe glowered up at him blearily. “Who says?”

  “Your fiancé.”

  “Huh?”

  “Scars called Jax about thirty minutes ago and asked how y’all were doing. Jax reported that you were just starting on round number four with two more to come from the bouncers, so Scars laughed a hell of a lot and said something about Keira being an early bird, then said for his future wife to get her hot little ass home after drink number six.”

  “Awww,” Jo said with a hiccup. “That’s damn sweet.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Zoe asked, all fire gone and now looking all moony like a teenaged girl with a crush on the star quarterback. “You know, there was a time when I wanted nothing to do with Scars Innis. What the hell was I thinking, right?”

  “Dunno,” Aidan said with a grin as he started to move away. “He’s one of the good ones.”

  “He wants to adopt Keira after we get married,” Zoe announced. “Wants to be her Daddy. Not every guy would want the responsibility, but Scars isn’t just any guy.”

  “That’s great!” Jo said, amazed at how happy she was to hear all of this. “I saw him with Keira at Satan’s last night, and he clearly adores her. She was comfortable and happy with him too.”

  “Yeah. She’s a gift, the best in the whole of my life.”

  Jo hesitated, then brought the conversation back to what they’d started talking about earlier. “Did you – you adopted Keira, then?”

  “Oh! Yes!” Zoe took a big sip of her drink. “We were talking about that. I forgot.” She sighed a bit. “Well… she’s my niece, really. My sister’s daughter. But when Hailey was – was killed by her ex, I took Keira.”

  “Wait.” Jo set her drink down, tried hard to focus because this was damn important to understand properly. “Keira’s Mom – your sister – was killed by… Keira’s Dad?”

  “Yeah. He stabbed Hailey to death when she was nine months pregnant with Keira. Hailey died right after delivery.”

  “Holy God,” Jo whispered, suddenly feeling very very sober. “Zoe… that’s horrible.”

  “It is. It is horrible. Know what’s almost as bad?”

  “No. What?”

  “You know how someone planted a bomb in the tattoo parlor and blew it up?”

  “Yes,” Jo said slowly, already half-seeing where Zoe was going with this and not liking it one bit. “The bomb that started the fire that almost killed Keira and Scars.”

  “Uh-huh. Carl set it off.”

  “Carl is Keira’s biological father?”

  “Yep.”

  “He – he knew that Keira was in the parlor when he set off the bomb?”

  “He did. We think that he was trying to create a diversion so he could kidnap her, but something went wrong.”

  Jo was painstakingly putting pieces together now. “So… the man who died in the fire of smoke inhalation –”

  “Carl.”

  “And we’re happy that the asshole is dead?”

  “We’re fucking ecstatic that the asshole is dead, Jo. He went on the run after killing Hailey and it never sat right with me that he got way with murder. What happened to him feels right. It feels like justice. Not the kind that the cops and courts talk about, but a different kind, something darker and more primal. Justice like – I don’t know like what. Like something else.”

  “Like karma,” Jo supplied. “Like an avenging god, like the universe resetting the balance, like a biblical atoning of sins. The most divine and Old Testament justice that there is, the kind that goes beyond the laws of man straight to the savage heart of natural law.”

  Zoe stared at her. “Yes. Yes, exactly. I’ve never been able to put my feelings into words, but yes. That’s it.”

  “I get it.”

  “I think most people do on some level.” Zoe sighed. “It’s the kind of justice that Wolf and the boys understand well, even now that they’re out of the criminal life. I mean, by their nature, one-percenter MC’s work outside the law and normal expectations of society. They have their own code and rules and punishments.”

  Jo nodded. “Did you know the guys when they were still one-percenters? Before Wolf took them straight?”

  “Yep, and I’ve known Wolf even longer than that. I’ve known him since I was ten and he was thirteen.”

  “You’re kidding.” Jo sat straighter, intrigued by this tidbit of information. “You guys have been friends all this time?”

  “Mostly. We lost touch a bit after he first joined up with The Road Devils, just because he was doing lots of sketchy and straight-up criminal stuff and didn’t want me around for it. Then –” Zoe paused and a look of pain flashed over her face; her sentences became clipped and staccato now. “Then I left Denver. Moved to Fargo. Stayed away six years.”

  Jo didn’t push, didn’t ask. Whatever had driven Zoe away all those years ago had so clearly been bad and as a woman who’d just moved states to get away from a living, breathing nightmare, Jo got that. “And you came back just over a year ago?”

  “Yep. To work at Blue Dragon.” Zoe was more relaxed again, her words looser and freer. “Wolf needed a manager and I needed a better life for Keira and really, I missed Denver desperately. I missed Wolf too, as much of a devil as he is. He’s always been like a brother to me.”

  “You two do seem like family.”

  “You know, I’ve always thought that expression, ‘you can’t choose your family’ is kinda bullshit. I mean, obviously you can’t choose who actually gives birth to you or who your biological siblings are. But you can choose who you call family, who you surround yourself with in your life. Wolf and Scars and the MC are my chosen family, and Keira is my chosen daughter. You know what I mean? My Dad was a useless drunk and my Mom is too – I can’t help having their blood in me, but I can think of them as strangers.”

  “I understand that.” Jo cocked her head as she recalled something else that had peaked her interest. “You said earlier that you didn’t want to give Scars a chance at first, and now he’s your chosen family and future husband. What changed your mind about him?”

  “Have you seen the man?” Zoe asked. “He’s eighteen kinds of gorgeous.”

  Jo laughed. “No argument from me. But the MC is heaving with hot guys, so I doubt you were won over by his looks alone.”

  “Correct. And the truth is that he kept trying with me, even when I was fucking impossible and suspicious. I accused him of everything under the sun, and he kept believing in a better version of myself than I was showing at the time. Know what I mean? It’s like… he saw me at my best long before I showed it, or even knew it was there.”

  “That’s beautiful,” Jo said quietly. “I’d love to know how that feels.”

  “I never thought I would know. I never believed that I’d find love, and sure as hell not with an MC guy. In my experience with them, they were all womanizing bastards and cheating liars, and the best place for a motorcycle man was light years away from me.”

  “But Scars was different?”

  “Yes and no. I mean, yes because he’s him, and him is pretty damn amazing and unique. But the truth is that sometimes, you don’t see what’s right in front of you because you’re so busy looking back. I let my past shape my perceptions and when I did that, I blindfolded myself. I had painted every one of Wolf’s brothers with the same dirty brush – including Scars – and it was up to me to open my mind to change. As soon as I got to know the guys, I saw how wrong I was about them. Sure, they’re fucking rough around the edges but so am I. Very few of them have any higher education, but neither do I. Most of them co
me from bad backgrounds, and I do too. You get me? I soon figured out that I had way more things in common with the guys than I didn’t. Lots and lots of common ground, not so many differences after all. As soon as I saw that, I saw Scars for who he was. I saw all of them.”

  “They’re good people,” Jo agreed. “I’m just getting to know them and I have to admit that I came with some preconceived notions about bikers… but so far, everyone that I’ve talked to has made me rethink what I was expecting.”

  Everyone for except Ice, that is. But I won’t mention him.

  “Except for Ice,” Zoe said, and Jo stared at her, wondering if she’d accidentally spoken the words out loud. “He’s hardcore fucking terrifying. Like King-level terrifying, but way colder. Those damn arctic-blue eyes, huh? Never any warmth and never a flicker of humanity.”

  “Yes,” Jo said slowly. “Yes. Ice makes me nervous.”

  “Me too. Even after he’s done some great things for me, and even though I consider him part of the family. He’s just…” Zoe’s voice trailed off. “His name says it all, really. He’s pure ice.”

  Jo shuddered, took a big slug of her drink to ward off the chill that had just moved over her body, trailed over her skin.

  “New subject?” Zoe said. “Something less freaking terrifying than Ice Johansson?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “You close to your family, Jo?”

  Jo paused, gathering her thoughts. “I was. But in the past few years, we’ve drifted apart a bit, especially after my ex and I moved to Minnesota for his work.”

  “Are you hoping to reconnect now that you’re a single girl in Colorado?”

  “I’ve already reached out to them, and they’re delighted. It’s like no time has passed at all, and the distance is forgotten.”

  “They’re in Santa Fe?”

  “Yep. Everyone except me.”

  “You going back for Christmas?”

  Jo paused again, took a big sip of her drink. The truth was that she’d give anything at all to go home for the holidays in a couple of weeks – and she knew that there was no way in hell that she was setting foot in New Mexico. Not for love or money.

  She’d briefly considered asking her parents for a loan and getting back to her family for Christmas, but then it had dawned on her that Brian may well have been counting on her doing that very thing. He knew that she missed her family dreadfully, knew that he’d isolated her from them over the past few years. He had to know that the second she was away and free from him, that she’d get back in touch with her Mom, papi, younger sister and brother. He had to know that she’d be yearning to see them.

  Jo was utterly convinced that Brian was going to be sitting outside her parents’ house in two weeks. Waiting for her to come back home.

  Waiting to punish me for leaving.

  “No,” she said to Zoe. “I’d really love to since I haven’t been home in about six years, but I can’t swing the plane ticket.”

  “What? You can’t?” Zoe looked horrified. “Do you need some money?”

  “What?” Jo echoed. “Uh – well – yes. But I can’t take money from you.”

  “You sure as hell can,” Zoe said. “But you wouldn’t have to. Ask Wolf for an advance on your December pay.”

  “I – I can do that?”

  “Of course! Do you honestly think that he’s going to make you wait until next year to get a pay check? It’s Christmas, Jo.”

  “I didn’t think about that,” she murmured. “I just assumed that since I started after the month started, I’d have to wait until the New Year.”

  “You don’t know Wolf Connor yet, do you? No way he’d deny anyone money to travel or buy presents or celebrate with a good meal and some nice wine. Ask him. Hell, I doubt that you’ll ever have to ask. I’d bet everything that I own that he’ll just wander over to your office before this week is out and tell you to prepare the transfer to your account for him to approve.”

  “He’d really do that?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Oh.” Stumped for a few seconds, Jo scrambled around for another reason why she wouldn’t be able to get back to Santa Fe. “Well, that’d be great but I imagine that everything is all booked up. When I made inquiries a week ago, there already wasn’t much left.”

  “Aww, shit. Of course.” Zoe looked devastated on her behalf. “Less than two weeks until Christmas. You could fly standby.”

  “I could, yeah. But I’d hate to end up stuck in an airport on Christmas Day if nothing panned out.”

  “Shit,” Zoe repeated, then she brightened. “Want to come to our place for Christmas Day, then?”

  “I – what?” Jo stuttered, almost choking on the dregs of her drink. “Your place?”

  “Yeah. Come celebrate with me and Scars and Keira. Wolf will be there too and a few other guys, I’m sure. Kansas said something about coming over, and maybe Jinx.”

  “But – you don’t even know me,” Jo said. “Isn’t Christmas for family?”

  “Jesus Christ, woman,” Zoe said in mock exasperation. “Haven’t you been listening to a damn word that I’ve been saying?”

  “Ummm… I think I have.”

  “We choose who we call our family,” Zoe said. “And when you were asked to join The Road Devils staff, you were chosen. Don’t you get it, Jo? You are part of the family.”

  Jo sat there in stunned silence, her thoughts not working in any coherent order. She was oddly emotional and touched, and it wasn’t just because of the shocking amount of alcohol that she’d consumed that evening. OK, sure, it was a bit much to be told that she was part of a family when she’d technically only met these people for the first time four days earlier. And yet…

  She’d felt that strange tug to Denver, that weird pull, as soon as she’d seen the accounting job offer on that website. She’d tumbled utterly in love with the mountains, hard and fast and at first sight. She’d had moments of feeling that she was right where she belonged – like she’d returned to a place that she’d known well and loved greatly, once upon a time.

  She felt at home in Denver and with The Road Devils. She really did.

  And if she was home, then didn’t that mean that she had family here? Family that she’d chosen just as much as she’d been chosen by them?

  Yes.

  Jo’s eyes were filling with tears, but she couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. Zoe smiled back, also looking very uncharacteristically teary and emotional.

  “Hey, hey. Just what the hell’s going on over here?” Aidan was back and looming over them with the last two Cosmopolitans in his hands. “What’s with the crying, ladies?”

  “We’re not crying,” Zoe said with great dignity while wiping her eyes. “We’re bonding.”

  “Ahhh.” Aidan set down the drinks. “I know such things well. Years of hands-on bartending research, remember. Though it does have to be said that sometimes vodka has a strange effect on people: it starts coming out of the eye ducts. Bizarre and rare, but not totally unheard of.”

  The women giggled. Aidan smiled down at them.

  “Lemme know when you want me to call your taxi,” he said. “I’ll get Dillon to walk you out too.”

  “Thanks,” Jo said, hoping that her nose wasn’t as red as it felt; she’d never been an elegant or pretty crier. It went with being a gallumph, she supposed. “We’ll tell you soon. It’s getting late.”

  “Alright, darlin’,” he said and wandered off again. “Y’all are so responsible. It’s inspiring.”

  They giggled once more, then looked at each other. There was still a question hanging in the air between them, and Jo knew exactly how she wanted to answer.

  “Yes,” she said thickly, through the lump in her throat. “Yes, please. I’d love to come for Christmas.”

  “Good,” Zoe replied,
her words equally constricted and overly polite and formal. “We’ll love to have you.”

  A few seconds of odd stiffness passed – then both women smiled and raised their glasses in a silent toast.

  To family that we choose.

  To sisters. The ones that we lose, and the ones that we choose.

  Chapter Twelve

  Three weeks later

  On the fourth day of the New Year, Silver woke with a start, his throat closed and his heart pounding. Yet again. He was barely breathing, and that feeling of suffocation was sadly, sickly familiar.

  For those horrible and never-ending six fucking years, he hadn’t felt like he could get enough air. It had had to do with the bars and bells and mind-numbing routine, of course… but it had much, much more to do with the fact that he’d lost any and all control over his own body, and in the worst possible way. Only once and only for about twenty minutes – but it had been more than enough.

  God, he remembered their weight pressing down on him like it was yesterday. He was sure that he’d never forget the sour mixture of emotions that he’d felt in those moments: helpless, hopeless, small, pathetic. Panicked and wanting to die. Angry and embarrassed and humiliated. Shamed and ashamed.

  “Motherfuckers,” he said aloud and hearing his own voice brought him fully out of the lingering clutches of the nightmares, back into his own bedroom where he was safe. “Fuck them.”

  He glanced at his cell phone and saw that it was just past three o’clock. He knew damn good and well that there would be no more sleep that night – the past few weeks had shown him that, over and over again – so he dragged himself up and out of bed. He wandered to the kitchen to grab the bottle of whiskey and a glass, then went to the living room.

  He poured a triple shot, idly noted that the bottle was getting pretty low. Well, he’d spent far too many nights just like this, alone in his living room and staring at the walls, drinking and waiting for morning to come and offer the reprieve and predictability of light, work and schedule.