SHADES: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series Book 3)

by James, Nicole

  “And I’m sure his brothers think I’m the one that killed him.”

  “Why would they think that?” he asked with sick dread filling his stomach.

  “Because they probably found the dagger they knew he gave me for my birthday sticking out of his chest.”

  “What?” Jesus Christ, what had she done?

  “I didn’t do it. I swear.”

  “How the hell do you even know a DK? Why the hell would he give you a birthday present?” At her silence, the pieces tumbled together in his mind. “You were his fucking ol’ lady?” he roared the question in disbelief.

  She swallowed. “Shades—”

  “Christ, that makes you property of the Devil Kings, babe.”

  There was stunned silence in the room for a moment before Ghost cleared his throat and waded in.

  “The Dead and the DKs are rivals, darlin’,” he clarified for her as well as tried to calm the situation down with a little humor. “So that kind of makes you two like Romeo and Juliet.”

  “More like Hatfields and McCoys,” Shades growled.

  “Yeah, and that ended well,” Ghost added.

  “Holy shit.” Shades collapsed in a chair, running his hands through his hair.

  ***

  Skylar studied Shades. He looked infuriated and maybe even devastated. Reading his body language, it was as if she couldn’t have fucked up any bigger than this. But he had to understand. She had to make him understand.

  “Please, Shades. It wasn’t like that. I’m not sure you’d say I was an old lady, really,” Skylar tried to explain, really terrified now. They thought she was property of the DKs? Did that mean they’d have to turn her over?

  “What would you say?” Shades looked at her intently, and she had the feeling her next words were very important. She tried to choose them carefully.

  “We were seeing each other. But it was casual. We weren’t living together or anything. I…”

  “He give you a property patch?” At her confused frown, he clarified. “You wear a vest?”

  “What?”

  “A vest. He give you a leather vest. One that said ‘Property of Rusty’ on the back.

  “No. Of course not.” He looked at her like he didn’t know her. “I’m telling the truth, Shades.”

  “And the rest? The money and killing him?”

  “I didn’t do it, Shades. I swear it. How can you even ask me that?”

  “How can I ask you that? You seriously askin’ me that, knowin’ you took a grand from me on your way out?”

  She bowed her head at the reminder. “I did that. I admit it. But I didn’t do this. I didn’t steal from them. And I didn’t kill a man. I could never do that.”

  “Not even in self-defense?”

  “What?”

  “He hit you? He hurt you?”

  “What? No. He was good to me. It wasn’t like that.”

  “Then how was it exactly?”

  “I woke up that morning. He was still asleep. He’d partied the night before and passed out when he came in. I went out to get us coffee at Starbucks. He was fine when I left. When I came back, I found him lying in the bed. Stabbed. The bag was gone.”

  “The bag?”

  “He kept it with him all the time. I never looked inside, but I’m sure, the way he kept it close, that it always had something of value in it. I’m not stupid. He was in an MC. Had to be either drugs or money. Payments, extortion, something.”

  Shades and Ghost exchanged a look.

  “Then what happened?” Shades pressed.

  “I felt for a pulse. I couldn’t find one, and he was so cold, but I called 911 anyway. Before they could arrive, his brothers showed up, and I panicked. After all, it was my dagger sticking out of their brother’s chest. If they’d walked in and found me standing there with his blood on me…they’d have killed me. Pulled out a gun and shot me dead right there on the spot. No questions asked. I knew that. So I ran out the back.”

  “They see you?”

  She nodded. “Yes. One of them ran out the back door and saw me driving off. He fired off a couple of shots at me, but I got away.”

  “So he’s dead, by your dagger, the money’s gone and they see you fleeing the scene. Could this situation be more fucked?”

  “We need to talk to Butcher,” Ghost informed him of something he probably already knew.

  “We finally found each other again, and now my hooking up with you has just brought a shit storm down on my club,” Shades growled.

  “I’m sorry, Shades. I never meant to be the cause of any trouble for you.”

  “Fuck.”

  She paced to the window, peering through the one inch gap in the curtain. She could see the group of men in their leather cuts standing at the back gate. Their bikes parked in a line in the alley beyond.

  “Get away from the window, Skylar.”

  She stepped away and turned to study Shades, wondering what he was thinking, what he would do now.

  His eyes bore into hers, as if he was trying to read her as well.

  “Are you going to turn me over to them?” she asked in a whisper, fearing his response. If he or his President thought the Devil Kings had some claim on her, they’d feel obligated to give her up to them. She was sure their President wanted no part of her dragging their MC into the middle of this mess. Would they just drag her down there and hand her over? Would Shades allow it? Would he have any choice or say in the matter? What if it was out of his hands?

  At his continued silence, she pressed, “Shades?”

  He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Hell, no. Butcher’s getting rid of them.”

  “They knew I was here? How?”

  “They don’t know shit. They don’t have a clue where you are. They just wanted the Evil Dead’s help in tracking you down. Guess you must have told Rusty you were from Birmingham.”

  “I didn’t. I didn’t tell any of them about Birmingham.”

  “Well, they figured it out somehow.”

  “And if they find out you’re harboring me?”

  “It could start an all-out war.”

  “Don’t sugarcoat it or anything.” Ghost leaned back against the wall, his arms folded.

  Shades jumped to his feet and spun on him. “She needs to know what she’s done, what she’s dragged this club into.”

  “Oh my God.” Skylar grabbed up her purse. “I should go. I…”

  Shades grabbed her by the bicep as she made to move past him. “You’re not going anywhere, Sky.”

  “I don’t want to bring trouble down on you. I never meant to do that.”

  “Too late. Trouble just showed up at the gate. So now you’re going to do what you’re told.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “For starters, you’re staying right here while the club meets to talk about this. I’m not letting you run again, babe. Get that through your head.”

  Not letting you run again. Skylar let his words sink in as their eyes held. He meant them. She’d run once, and he had no intention of letting her do it again.

  Through the window, she heard the bikes fire up and soon roar off down the street. Skylar exhaled, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. Her whole body sagged with relief and a sob escaped her lips. Shades pulled her close, her face pressed into the leather of his cut. One arm locking around her waist, the other pulling her head tight against him. Being held so close, feeling the strength of his arms around her, she melted into him and felt his protection enfold her. She needed him so. Not just his physical protection, not just his club’s protection. She needed the man. This man. She needed the emotional support he gave her. When she was weak and scared and tired, he was strong and sure. She felt like she could give it all over to him and he’d take care of it, take care of her.

  As if he’d read her thoughts, his voice whispered in her ear, “I’ll handle it. I’ll take care of it, Sky.”

  Then his hands were on her upper arms, and he was pulling back to
look down at her, his jaw tight, his face firm. His grip tightened, giving her another shake. “You do what you’re told, Skylar. You hear me?”

  She had no choice but to nod.

  “Let’s go.” Shades looked at Ghost and jerked his head toward the door.

  They left her alone in the room. When the door closed, she hadn’t heard it lock. It being an office, she’d noticed it had a deadbolt that opened with a key from the other side, and she’d feared they would lock her in. Moving to the door, she tried it and sighed with relief when the knob turned. Opening it a crack, she could hear them stomping down the stairs, boots pounding on the steps and then down the hall.

  She waited, giving them a few minutes, then she crept down the stairs, determined to sneak out and disappear while Shades was meeting with his President. No matter what Shades said, she couldn’t cause him trouble. She couldn’t involve him in this or put him in any danger.

  Reaching the bottom, she dashed down the hall, through the clubhouse, past the bar and almost made it to the door. Looking over her shoulder to make sure Shades hadn’t seen her, she slammed right into a hard male body.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Slick was jolted by the beautiful woman who’d just slammed into him, but he made a grab to catch her before she fell flat. Unfortunately, her purse fell to the ground, the contents scattering.

  She looked up at him, and he realized it was Skylar.

  “Whoa, there, darlin’. You okay?” he asked, his arms reaching out to steady her.

  “Yes. I’m fine. I’m so sorry.” She bent to gather her things, and he bent to help her. She frantically grabbed up her wallet, which had flipped open, a rolling tube of lipstick, a set of keys, breath mints and a multitude of other items and began cramming them back in her purse.

  Slick picked up a piece of paper that had obviously fallen out of her wallet. He held it out to Skylar. “I think this is yours.” His eyes studied the paper. It was one of those strips of photos you get at a photo booth. There were four shots. He could tell they were from a long time ago, maybe twenty or more years ago. They were of a man and a woman. The woman was beautiful and could almost be a dead ringer for Skylar, except for the hair, makeup and clothes that dated the photo. The man was standing behind the woman. He had dark hair that hung down to his shoulders, a headband tied around his head, a dark goatee and light eyes. In one photo he was making bunny ears over the woman’s head and she was smiling bright at the camera. In another, he was grabbing her tit, and she was laughing. In another she was kissing the side of his cheek, and he was making a goofy face at the camera.

  There was something familiar about the man. Slick could swear he’d seen him somewhere before. And then his eyes tracked back to the picture of the guy’s hand grabbing the woman’s tit. And he saw it. The ring on the man’s hand. The big, silver Evil Dead ring.

  Holy shit!

  His eyes studied the face again and it clicked.

  That was Undertaker.

  Skylar tried to snatch the strip from his hand, but he pulled his arm up out of her reach.

  “Can I have my picture back please?”

  “Who are they?”

  “That’s my mother. It’s the only picture I have of her.”

  “Your mother?” That explained the resemblance. “And the guy?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I always figured he might be my father, but I don’t know. Maybe just a guy she knew.”

  Boot came up and looked over Slick’s shoulder at the photo strip. “What are we lookin’ at?”

  Slick held the pictures up for him to see. “Skylar’s mom. And maybe her dad.” He nonchalantly pointed with his thumb to the ring on Undertaker’s finger.

  “Fuck, is that—”

  Slick cut him off with an elbow to the solar plexus. Then he handed Skylar back the photo. “You’re mom’s real pretty, darlin’, just like you.”

  She grabbed it and shoved it into her purse. “Thanks,” she said distractedly.

  “Where you goin’ in such a hurry?”

  Just then Shades appeared over her shoulder and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her around. “She’s not goin’ anywhere. Are you Skylar?”

  She looked up at him with a stricken face, and then he was pulling her along behind him.

  Slick watched them go.

  Then he turned to Boot. “Come on. We need to talk to Butcher.”

  They made their way through the clubhouse, down the hall past the bar to the back office that sat next to their meeting room. They found Butcher sitting behind his big desk, one hand at his chin, running over his beard, appearing lost in thought.

  Ghost sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, bent forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely between them.

  They both looked up as Slick and Boot appeared in the open doorway.

  “Come on in, boys. We’ve got some shit to talk about,” Butcher said.

  They both stepped into the room, Slick closing the door quietly behind him. “Yeah, the DKs, I know, but there’s something else I just got wind of. You need to know.”

  Butcher’s hand dropped. “What’s that?”

  Slick leaned his palms on the side of the desk and dropped the bomb with no hesitation, as was his style. “Pretty sure Undertaker’s Skylar’s father.”

  Butcher, who had begun tapping a pencil on the desk, suddenly stopped and boomed, “What?”

  “Pretty sure it’s true, boss,” Boot gave Slick his backing.

  “Where the hell did you get that idea? She tell you that?” And then without giving a moment’s pause to let Slick give an answer, Butcher’s gaze immediately swung to Ghost who was looking up from his chair, stunned. “You know about this shit? You and Shades know about this shit when you not ten minutes ago traipsed in here and dumped that nightmare in my lap about her and the DKs?”

  “Fuck, no,” Ghost insisted loudly. “Undertaker? The New Orleans fucking Chapter President? That Undertaker?”

  “Yup,” Slick replied.

  Butcher’s eyes swung back to Slick. “What the fuck are you talking about? How the hell did you come up with this bullshit?”

  “It ain’t bullshit, Butcher,” Boot defended.

  “She dropped her purse,” Slick explained. “Shit went everywhere. One of those little photo strips fell out. I picked it up and looked at it. The girl in the shot was Skylar’s mother, back when she was maybe her age. The guy in the picture is Undertaker. Twenty-five years ago, maybe. But it’s him. He looked familiar. At first I couldn’t place him. Then I saw the ring on his hand. It was an Evil Dead ring. Then I knew where I’d seen him. Knew who he was.”

  “She tell you that was her dad?”

  “No. Said that was the only picture she had of her mom. Wasn’t sure who the guy was. Thought it might be her dad, but she didn’t know.”

  Butcher shook his head. “Skylar was in foster care. Why would she be in fuckin’ foster care if—” And then he paused as if putting it all together.

  “Exactly,” Slick cut in. “That was back when Undertaker was in prison.”

  “Fuck. That’s right. Undertaker did time. I heard he got sent up to Angola. Did eleven years.” Butcher ran a hand down his face.

  Slick looked Butcher in the eyes. “I heard there was a kid. I also heard when he got out, he lost his shit when he couldn’t find this chick or his kid.”

  “You think Skylar’s that kid?” Ghost asked Butcher.

  Butcher’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. But I aim to find out.”

  Ghost stood. “I’ll go get Shades.”

  Butcher looked up at him with menace. “You don’t say shit to him about this. Not until I make a call. You hear me?”

  Ghost stared at him a moment, before nodding slowly. “Yeah. I hear you.”

  “Christ, this is true, there goes any option of turning her over,” Butcher grumbled.

  “That wasn’t ever an option, was it, Butcher?” Ghost asked, knowing the answer. “She was pretty
upset. Scared to death, actually. Shades isn’t gonna turn his back on her.”

  Butcher ran a frustrated hand down his face. “Nothing he can do about it now but hole up for the night and get her calmed down.” Then his eyes connected with Ghost. “Go tell him to get her out of here and lay low tonight. Until we figure this shit all out. Then you come back here.”

  Ghost nodded and left.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Skylar was on the back of Shades’ bike.

  They’d left the clubhouse and were headed south of town. At first she thought he was taking her back to her place, but he didn’t get off the interstate at that exit. Then she thought he must be taking her to his shop, but he didn’t take that exit either.

  He’d been terse with her when he’d pulled her out to his bike, threw his leg over it and told her to ‘climb the fuck on’. She knew he was angry with her, and he had a right to be. She’d really dropped a bomb on him today.

  Still, she couldn’t help worrying her lip, wondering where he was taking her as they rode on for another fifteen minutes past the exit for his shop.

  Finally, he exited the interstate. Skylar frowned when they passed the signage indicating this was one of the exits for Lay Lake.

  She’d been out here a time or two with Letty during high school. God. That seemed like a million years ago now.

  They drove a few miles before Shades was slowing to make a turn onto a gravel road off to the left. They passed a row of about a dozen mailboxes out by the paved road, and he headed the bike down the gravel at a much slower speed.

  It was dusk now. The sun had set, but there was still some light in the sky. It was a vibrant blue. They rolled on past several homes. Some of them cabins, some of them doublewide trailers. All neatly kept with pink azalea bushes or camellias. She could see between the dark shadows of the towering southern pines glimpses of the lake, still as glass and reflecting the vibrant blue of the sky. She also could see a dock out in front of each place, some with bass boats, some with pontoon boats tied up to them.