Shades eyes dropped to the paper. It was a photo strip. Butcher snatched it up and then held it out, facing Shades.
“She look familiar?” he asked cryptically.
Shades eyes moved from Butcher to Ghost, and then finally to the photo strip. He reached out and took it from Butcher’s hand and examined it. Fuck. This chick was a dead ringer for Skylar.
“What the hell? Where did you get this?” His question was for Ghost, his eyes boring into him.
“Skylar’s purse.”
“You took it out of her purse?”
“I told him to,” Butcher barked.
“What the fuck for?”
“Slick saw that yesterday. She dropped her purse on the floor, and it fell out. She says that’s her mother.”
Shades looked back down at the photo, and then back at Butcher. “Okay. That’s her mother. What of it?”
“It’s the man in the photo that’s important,” Butcher clarified.
“Yeah, what about him?”
“Take a closer look. See his ring?”
Shades studied the series of photos again until he found the only shot that showed the ring. And then his stomach dropped—a fucking Evil Dead ring. His eyes snapped up to Butcher. “Who is he?”
“I’m thinking that’s Skylar’s father.”
“Who the fuck is he?”
“Undertaker,” Butcher paused, and then he dropped the bomb. “The New Orleans Chapter President.”
Shades slumped back in his chair, his eyes sliding closed as the implications of what this all meant washed over him. Christ, could this girl get any more complicated? Could this situation get any more fucked?
“I made a call down there yesterday and had a chat with him.”
Shades eyes came open. Butcher had his full attention now. “What did he say? He claim her? Where the hell has he been all these years? Fuck, he just abandoned her to the system when she was barely three years old. Do you know what hell her life has been because of it?”
“Whoa. Pull the reins in, Son. You don’t know the whole fuckin’ story.”
“Do you?”
“I know some of it. I know what Undertaker told me.”
“And what the fuck was that?”
Butcher pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle and a short tumbler. Then he poured out a double shot of Jack and slid it across the desk toward Shades. “Knock it back, and we’ll talk.”
Shades reached out and slammed the shot down.
“Need another?”
“No. Just tell me.”
“Undertaker was seeing some girl when he got sent up to Angola. There was a baby. He ended up doing eleven years. When he got out and he couldn’t find them, he lost his shit. Way he tells it, he searched. I’m not sure how hard or how long. All the pieces fit. It’s possible Skylar’s mom is the girl he was seeing, and Skylar was that baby.”
“So, he’s on his way here?”
Butcher shook his head. “He can’t leave right now. Too much shit goin’ down with the Death Heads MC. He’s dealin’ with the same problems we got. They’re trying to push into their territory in Louisiana from Texas, just like they’re trying to push into the Alabama Gulf Coast from Florida.”
“And he can’t take time to figure this out? A lead on his long-lost kid comes up, and he can’t be bothered?”
“Settle down, Shades. He was tore up when I told him. I’m the one that offered a solution to make it easier on him.”
“And what’s that?”
“You’re taking her down there to meet him.”
“I’m what?” Shades roared.
“You and Ghost are going to take her down there.”
Shades’ eyes darted to Ghost, who appeared to want no part of this, but he was a good soldier, and he would do what he was ordered to do. Shades’ eyes returned to Butcher.
“Take her down there? You’re joking, right?”
Butcher shook his head. “No, I’m not joking, Shades. You’re taking her down there to him. But you aren’t telling her why. If we’re wrong, if he doesn’t recognize her or this photo, then she never has to know.”
“And what reason would I have for taking her down there? What the fuck you want me to tell her?”
Butcher shrugged. “You gotta make a run, and you want her with you, it makes sense. You’d want to be protecting her from the Devil Kings, right? You wouldn’t leave her here, alone, unprotected. It’s a short run. A road-trip. You’ll have fun. Convince her. You two just got together. I wouldn’t think you takin’ off with her for a few days would be such a hardship.”
Shades listened to all of Butcher’s reasons.
Ghost looked down at Shades. “I’ll meet you and Skylar by the bikes, Brother.”
Then he walked out the door.
Shades ran a frustrated hand through his hair, scratched his scalp in aggravation and then looked back up at Butcher. “You expect us to leave now? Right now?”
“Sooner the better, Son. Get it over with. Plus it keeps her well away from the DKs reach.”
“For now.”
“Right. We’ll sort that fuckin’ mess when you get back.”
“If I get back.”
Butcher grinned. “Afraid Undertaker won’t accept you as a son-in-law?”
“One of us may kill the other before this is through.”
Butcher’s brows rose, and in all seriousness he growled, “I trust you to not let that happen. Either one.”
Shades stalked out into the main room of the clubhouse and approached the bar where Griz, who’d been tasked with keeping an eye on Skylar for him, sat drinking a beer. Only she wasn’t sitting next him where he’d left her.
“Where’s Skylar?” he snapped.
“She’s upstairs in the witness protection program. Her new name’s Bambi.” Griz grinned. When Shades didn’t crack a smile, he continued, “What, too soon?”
“There’s something seriously wrong with you.”
“What? I kid. I joke. People love that about me. I’m a fun guy.”
“Where is she?”
“Chill out, she’s throwing darts with Hammer.” Griz lifted his chin toward the dartboard across the room.
Shades stalked across the room. With a chin lift to Hammer, he grabbed Skylar by the arm. “Let’s go.”
As he hustled her out the door, she asked, “Where are we going?”
“To your place, then to the shop. I’ll explain later.”
Without another word, she dutifully followed him out to the bikes, took the helmet he handed her and climbed on behind him. If she kept this blind obedience up throughout the trip, maybe things wouldn’t go so bad after all, he thought. Chances were, it’d all go to hell, though.
Ghost revved his throttle and looked over at him. “I’ll pack a bag and meet you at your shop.”
Shades nodded and Ghost took off. Shades gunned his own throttle and pulled out before he gave Skylar time to ask about what Ghost meant by ‘packing a bag’. They rolled through the side streets, got up on I-59 and headed for I-65. He took it south of town, over the mountain, exiting on 119. A few minutes later he was pulling down her drive and parking in front of her door.
They both climbed off. He trailed her up the stairs and waited by the door while she unlocked it, and then deactivated the alarm. He followed her inside, where she turned to him.
“So, are you dropping me off here or…?”
“No. Go upstairs and pack a bag. Something small that can fit on the bike.”
She frowned up at him. “Why? Am I staying at your place?”
He shook his head. “I’m getting you out of town. Away from the DKs.”
She swallowed and her voice got soft. “Oh. How long will we be gone?”
“Four days. Maybe longer. Until this blows over.”
“Shades, I don’t think this is going to just blow over.”
“It’s being taken care of,” he lied.
“How?”
“Sky, just go upstairs, and do what I told you.”
“Four days?”
“Yeah.”
“And you think I can pack all that in a backpack? Baby, you don’t know women.”
“One pair of jeans. A handful of tank-tops. Some panties.” Then he grinned. “No, scratch that last item. And a jacket. That’s all you need. Anything else, we can pick up along the way.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out when we get there. Now move.”
“Okay, okay.” She headed up the stairs.
He shouted after her, watching her ascend in the cute pair of sandals she’d been wearing. “And wear boots. We’ll be riding.”
Twenty minutes later they were pulling up at his shop. Ghost was already sitting in the lot waiting for them.
Shades went inside, grabbed a couple of things and came back out. He knelt and shoved them in one of his saddlebags. When he stood, he looked at Ghost. “Sorry you got dragged into this shit.”
Ghost grinned. “That’s okay, I totally wanted to drop everything I was doing today to take care of your bullshit.”
The corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Wasn’t my choice, Brother.”
“I know it.”
Shades turned to Skylar and asked, “You need to hit the john, do it now. I ain’t stoppin’ a million times.”
With that, she nodded and headed inside.
Ghost leaned sideways back against his bike, his ass in the seat, his legs crossed at the ankles. His head turned as he watched Skylar leave, then his eyes swung back to Shades and he asked, “She ever ridden long distance?”
“Not that I know of.”
“You do realize this ride is over three hundred miles.”
“Know how far it is, Ghost.”
“Just sayin’.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“Right. We won’t make it past Tuscaloosa before her ass is sore.”
“Probably not.”
“You’re not stoppin’?”
“Not sayin’ that. We’ll have to stop for gas.”
“These tanks, we got two hundred miles. Maybe. My bet? She’ll give out long before we have to stop for gas, Brother.”
“Yeah, probably,” Shades conceded with a huffed out breath. “Meridian’s about half way. We may end up there.”
“Two days down. Two days back. And how many you figure in Louisiana once Undertaker gets a look at her?”
“One, if I have my way.”
Ghost grinned. “Fifty bucks says we’re gone a week.”
Shades scowled at him.
Skylar walked back out of the shop, and Shades walked over and locked the door.
“So, where are we going exactly?” she asked.
“Told you, getting you out of town,” Shades replied.
“I know, but where?”
“New Orleans.”
He watched a slow smile form on her face.
Shit.
“We’re going to New Orleans? I’ve always wanted to see the French Quarter. Bourbon Street. Jackson Square. Oh, and that place with the coffee and beignets that’s been there since like before the Civil War.”
“Café Du Monde,” Ghost clarified.
“That’s the place.” She looked up into Shades’ eyes, her arms sliding around his neck. “Can we go there? Will you take me?”
He tried to pull her arms from around his neck. “Babe, this isn’t a fucking vacation. You’re supposed to be laying low.”
“I thought Louisiana wasn’t their territory.”
“She’s got ya there, Brother,” Ghost added helpfully with a grin.
“Yeah, well they could be looking anywhere for you.” He knew it was unlikely that there’d be any DKs anywhere near where they were going, but he didn’t want to spend any more time around Undertaker than necessary. He sure didn’t want to go fuckin’ sightseeing.
“Oh,” she said despondently, and he felt her arms sliding away from him.
Shit. He hated to see the joy sucked right out of her face. And it was such a little thing she’d asked for, really. “Okay. Maybe. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Oh, thank you, Shades.” She kissed his cheek.
He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “You ready to roll?”
She nodded and moved toward his bike.
Ghost threw a leg over his and lifted it off the kickstand. He grinned at Shades as he moved past him. “Shit, she’s already got you wrapped.”
Shades shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Just shut up.”
Ghost let out a low chuckle and fired his bike up, the thunderous pipes drowning out any further conversation.
She nodded. “So, are we going to be staying close to the Quarter?”
“We’re not actually going to be staying in New Orleans. We’re gonna be staying across Lake Pontchartrain in Slidell.”
“Slidell? In a motel?”
“Not exactly.”
“What’s not exactly mean?”
“We’re gonna be staying with some friends.”
“By friends you mean the MC?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t look so scared. You’ll be fine.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When they reached Meridian, they exited the interstate and pulled into a diner. Skylar climbed off the back of Shades’ bike and rubbed her sore ass. She eyed the motel across the street longingly and asked, “How much further is it?”
“We’re about half way, Hotrod,” Ghost informed her with a grin.
“Only half way?” Her hopeful expression fell in devastation.
“Yeah, halfway. Come on,” Shades took her hand and pulled her along behind him into the diner.
They were immediately seated in a booth, and a waitress came over with a coffee pot.
“Coffee?” she asked. When they all nodded affirmatively, she began turning the cups right side up in the saucers that sat on the table and filled them while Ghost pulled the plastic coated menus from behind the napkin dispenser and passed them around.
Shades barely looked at his before he slid it back in its holder and looked up at the waitress.
“I’ll have the pulled-pork barbeque plate.”
“Sides?” the waitress asked.
“Baked beans and coleslaw.”
“And to drink?”
“Sweet tea.”
Ghost shoved his menu behind the holder. “I’ll have the same.”
The waitress scribbled on her pad, and then her eyes fell on Skylar. “And you, miss?”
“Um,” she studied the menu. “I’m thinking maybe a salad.”
Shades yanked the menu out of her hand and told the waitress. “She’ll have the same.”
“Hey!”
The waitress scribbled on her pad and made a hasty retreat.
“Why did you do that?” Skylar asked him.
“You don’t need a salad, Sky. You didn’t eat breakfast. You have to be hungry.”
Skylar looked over at Ghost, her brows raised and popped her lips. “Guess I’m having pulled-pork.”
Ghost chuckled. “Guess so. That’s what the man said.”
“He always like this?”
“Oh, no, no, no. Don’t be putting me in the middle of whatever fight y’all are about to have.”
“We’re not about to have a fight,” Shades insisted.
“Right,” Ghost agreed sarcastically.
“I’m just making sure my woman is well fed.”
She looked back at Shades. “Maybe I don’t like pork. Ever think of that?”
“Do you like pork, Skylar?” he asked.
“Well, yes, but that’s beside the point.”
“No, it’s not.”
She rolled her eyes and gave up.
“Good decision.” Ghost grinned at her.
Skylar fidgeted in her seat.
“What’s wrong with you?” Shades asked.
“You know exactly what’s wr
ong with her, bro. Her ass is sore.”
“Ghost!” Skylar hissed, turning to see if anyone in the diner heard him.
“What? It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but you don’t have to bring it up.”
Skylar’s eyes again looked longingly out the plate-glass window at the motel sign across the street.
Shades eyes followed, and he huffed out a breath, taking a sip of his coffee.
“What was that for?” Skylar asked, turning to him.
“What was what for?” he replied.
“That huff? What was that for?”
“You want to check into that motel.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but it’s what you’re thinkin’, isn’t it?”
She looked away.
“Isn’t it?” he repeated, nudging her shoulder with his.
Her eyes came back to him. “Maybe. Okay, yes, it was.”
“Christ,” he muttered.
Ghost just grinned at him from across the table. “Did we bet on this?”
“No,” Shades growled. “We bet on four days versus seven.”
“What does that mean?” Skylar asked, frowning.
“It means we’re getting a room.”
Ghost nudged her with his foot. “Just shut up and tell him thank you.”
She looked over at Shades and smiled. “Thank you, honey.”
He just looked away, shaking his head, but she could see the grin he tried to hide behind his coffee cup.
Half an hour later, they rolled across the street to the motel. Shades went in, and Skylar waited outside with Ghost.
Skylar watched after Shades as he walked away, watching the sexy way his hips rolled with his gate. He’d grown even better looking in the years they’d been apart. He seemed broader in the shoulders, and his arms and chest were more muscular. He’d really filled out as a man in his prime. And as she watched him walk away, she realized she’d never be able to watch him walk away for real again. It terrified her that that may still happen. No matter what he’d said, she knew things could happen that could change his feelings. But she wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted anything. She only wished everything could work out for them.
She caught Ghost’s eyes on her and turned to look at him.
He watched her, his arms folded, his feet wide apart.
SHADES: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series Book 3) Page 19