BLOOD: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 7)

by Nicole James

  “Save it. I’ve heard that whole trapped-under-a-building excuse before.”

  He started to chuckle, but the pain caused him to suck in a harsh breath. “I’d laugh, only it hurts too much.”

  ***

  After she’d finished tending to Blood, Cat stood back. “Surprisingly, you didn’t do any damage. It’s healing nicely.”

  “Great.” He sat up.

  “I notice you have a few new bruises, though.”

  “Comes with the job.”

  “Is that all the explanation I get?”

  “Yep. Club business is club business.”

  “How’s the pain?”

  “Tolerable.”

  “You’re not eating pain pills like candy, are you?”

  He slid off the mattress to stand, slipping his arms into a new denim shirt. “Now would I do a thing like that?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  He stared at her as he buttoned up the shirt, noticing her gaze followed his movements. He darted a look to the bed. “You sure you don’t want to take me up on my offer?”

  She rolled her eyes again and moved toward the door. “Honestly, is that all you men think about?”

  He chuckled as he followed after her. “Mostly.”

  ***

  Late that night, while Cat slept in her room, Blood sat at the bar in the clubhouse. The light of the neon bar signs on the wall reflected through the glass in front of him, turning the whiskey a glowing amber. Undertaker walked up and took the stool beside him. Blood leaned over the bar, grabbed a second glass, and poured his President two fingers from the bottle in front of him.

  “Thanks.” Undertaker picked it up and took a sip.

  “So where do we find the asshole who gave you that great tip today?”

  Undertaker lit up a cigarette and dropped the lighter on the bar. He blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “That’ll be handled tomorrow.”

  “Damn right it will,” Blood guaranteed vehemently.

  “Mooch is handling it.”

  “My crew is in on it. That’s our fucking payback.”

  “Thought you wanted to concentrate on the Death Heads.”

  “Apparently, it’s all tied together. Girl at the shed said bikers made them switch from making the meth to building bombs. Had to be them.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not going to find them at this guy’s house.”

  “You never know. We might get lucky.”

  “Lady Luck doesn’t seem to like you very much lately,” Undertaker observed with a grin.

  Blood stared him straight in the eyes. “Well, that’s about to change.”

  Undertaker nodded. “Maybe so. That all that’s got you stewing tonight?”

  Blood turned back to his drink, downing it with one gulp. “What do you mean?”

  “Nurse Hotty.”

  “What about her?”

  “I suppose you think she proved your theory right today, with that stunt.”

  Blood looked over at him and cocked a brow. “My theory?”

  “That women can’t be trusted. That they all run out on you.”

  Blood looked back at the mirror behind the bar. “Don’t they? Ain’t found one yet to prove me wrong.”

  Undertaker chuckled. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Way to take a position.”

  “I’m just saying the world isn’t always black and white. Sometimes it’s a thousand shades of gray.”

  “Cryptic as usual, Undertaker. I can always count on you to philosophize. But when I want pointless conversation, I’ll let you know.”

  Undertaker smiled and poured himself another shot. “I was hoping this one was different. I think you were, too.”

  “I don’t give a shit one way or another. She’s nothing more to me than a debt I owe.”

  Undertaker held the bottle over Blood’s glass and refilled it with a grin. “Right, Blood. Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

  Blood downed the drink, a tick in his jaw.

  “Just do me a favor.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “We got a shitload of trouble goin’ on now. I need you focused. Don’t let that little damsel-in-distress get in your way.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cat sat outside in the late afternoon sun. The men were off on club business that no one would talk about, but that didn’t mean the clubhouse was quiet. There were several more ol’ ladies than had been there before, some having brought their kids with them—kids who were now either goofing around trying to play pool—if they were old enough to hold a cue—or in a game room on the second story, playing video games.

  Cat couldn’t help her eyes from straying from where she sat at one of the picnic tables over to the gate. The thought of running, this time in the opposite direction, crossed her mind briefly, but she’d promised Blood she’s stay put. After everything yesterday, she couldn’t break his trust again.

  Undertaker, who’d stayed behind when the group of men pulled out earlier in the day, strolled out the door and joined her at the picnic table.

  He sat across from her and lit up a cigarette. “Mind if I smoke?”

  She grinned. “Seeing as you already lit up, I guess not.”

  He grinned back. “How’re you holding up?”

  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and looked off. “Okay, I guess. I’m worried about my sister. I feel like the chance of getting her back is dwindling with each passing day.”

  “Hey.”

  She met his look with eyes that were starting to sting.

  “Never bet against Blood.”

  She nodded, but he looked at her strangely, like he was trying to figure her out.

  “You don’t like the MC life, do you, babe?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want anything to do with this life.”

  “How about Blood? You want anything to do with him? Because, this life saved that man.” He waved Marla over.

  Cat frowned, but held back her question as Marla approached.

  “You need something, boss?” She laid her arm across his shoulder, smiling down at him.

  “Get us a couple of cold ones, doll.”

  “Sure.”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back against him as she tried to move away. “Hey.”

  She looked down at him. “Hmm?”

  He grinned at her and warned, “You bring me the wrong beer, and I’ll beat your sweet ass.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You say the most romantic things.”

  He smacked her ass as she moved away to do his bidding. Then he looked back at Cat, took a drag off his cigarette, and spoke. “I’m gonna tell you a story. This is between you and me, understand?”

  She nodded, having not one clue what he was about to tell her.

  “Not because it’s your business, but because maybe it’ll help you understand things better.”

  “Okay.”

  Marla came out with two bottles of beer. Undertaker took them and slid one to Cat. Then he waited until the girl walked off to continue his story.

  “Blood’s father ruled him with a tight leash and an iron fist. I met Blood about the time he got big enough to fight back. When he was in his teens, he took to lifting weights and learning to fight. One day he eventually had enough of the abuse his old man doled out on a regular basis, and he turned on his father. Then he ran. His old man found him and dragged him back. He beat him. This cycle went on for awhile, and I think Blood came to realize he’d need some men at his back if he wanted to escape.”

  “That’s where the MC came in?”

  “Smart girl.” Undertaker paused to take a long drink. “I was in a diner and saw it happen, saw the way his old man treated him. After some verbal abuse, he shoved Blood and walked out, leaving him there… told him he could walk home. After his old man left, I approached the kid.” Undertaker grinned. “His eyes got as big as saucers when he saw me. I tapped my vest and told him if he ever got sick of his old man beating him t
o give me a call. I scribbled my number on a cocktail napkin and shoved it in his pocket. He called me the next day.”

  “And?”

  “I took him in. He turned eighteen soon after and became a Prospect for the club. There’s a deep level of personal commitment and self-discipline a man has to demonstrate and sustain in order to earn a patch. Blood was one of the best Prospects we ever had, and you know why? Because he wanted it so badly. He’s one of my best guys. He’s like a son to me. This club is his family now—the only one he’s got, the only one he needs.”

  Cat took a sip of her beer, beginning to see Blood in a different light, but unsure why Undertaker was telling her all this.

  “Maybe now you’ll understand him a little better. Men come to this MC for a lot of different reasons. Blood, he needs this club in a way a lot of my guys don’t.” He studied her eyes. “His path… it hasn’t always been easy. His actions result from some deep personal impressions that left a huge mark on his personality and on his view of women. That aside, he’s got some good qualities if someone cares enough to look for them.”

  “Meaning me?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Will he find my sister?”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ve got a good man looking out for you—the best guy in my crew. He says something, he does it.”

  A couple of the younger girls came outside. One stopped at the table. “Undertaker, do you mind if we do a little target practice?”

  Undertaker grinned. “Just as long as you’re careful.”

  “We will.” They started to move off, but Undertaker stopped them with a hand. He looked at Cat.

  “You know how to shoot?”

  She shook her head. “Not really.”

  He jerked his chin, indicating she should go with the girls. “Tammy will show you the basics.” He paused to wink at the girl. “She’s our best shot, aren’t you, gal?”

  The girl, while pleased by Undertaker’s compliment, looked less than enthused with her new assignment. She gave Cat a cold look, but obeyed Undertaker. “Sure. Come on, honey.”

  “That’s okay, I really don’t want—”

  Undertaker cut her off with a warning look that told her she had better comply.

  “Um… yeah, sure. Why not?” She got up and followed the girls over to the makeshift targets at the back of the compound.

  Twenty minutes later, Cat was trying to get the hang of it, but she was less than interested. The gun was heavy and loud and scared her to death. Yes, she’d shot that Death Head, but that had been all the adrenaline, fear, and anger pumping through her body. She’d reacted without thinking. This was entirely different. She was more aware of what she was doing and realized how out of her depth she felt.

  There were several paper targets nailed up on the back of the stockade wall. She’d hit all around hers, but only hit the white paper once and not even on the circle.

  Tammy looked over at her as she took aim. “So what’s the story with you and Blood?”

  “There is no me and Blood.”

  “Well, your loss, sweetie.”

  “You mean he hasn’t fucked you yet?” one of the other girls asked.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”

  “What the hell’s wrong with you, girl?” Tammy asked.

  “Yeah, you’re missing out.”

  Tammy smirked. “Maybe she’s just not Blood’s type.” Her eyes ran down Cat’s body dismissively.

  “Honey, you let that man in your bed, you’re gonna feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven,” said a redhead at the end.

  They all started giggling.

  Tammy loaded anther clip in her gun and looked over at Cat. “Hey. Best three out of five. You in?”

  “I can barely hit the target.”

  Tammy chambered a round. “You chicken?”

  That had Cat’s chin coming up. “I’m not afraid of shit.”

  Tammy’s brow shot up. “Then prove it.”

  Cat lifted her gun, took aim, and pulled the trigger. She barely hit the edge of the outer ring.

  Tammy smirked, aimed, and fired. Bam! She glanced over at Cat triumphantly. “Bullseye.”

  The sound of motorcycles could be heard approaching from a distance. It grew louder and louder until it was a rumbling roar as a horde of bikes pulled through the gates, kicking up a cloud of dust.

  Cat looked over, but the girls yelled for her to take her turn.

  ***

  Blood and the rest of the men dismounted and headed over to the picnic table where Undertaker held court. Many of their eyes strayed to where the women were shooting.

  “How’d it go?” Undertaker asked.

  “Fine,” Blood replied, his eyes on the girls, surprised to see Cat among them. As he watched, he realized she couldn’t shoot worth shit.

  “According to plan, for once,” Sandman elaborated for Undertaker.

  “Good. Any sign of the Death Heads?”

  “Nope,” Blood bit out, his attention still on Cat

  “Ten bucks says she misses the next three shots,” Undertaker bet, his eyes on Blood.

  Blood turned to him, “Ten bucks says I get her to make a bullseye.”

  Undertaker chuckled. “I’ve been watching her shoot for the last hour. You sure that’s a bet you want to make?”

  “Afraid you’ll lose?”

  Undertaker grinned. “You’re on.”

  Blood walked toward the women, Sandman trailing behind. They both came to stand behind the girls, their muscular arms folded.

  “Who are you two? Thelma and Louise?” Sandman asked as Tammy and Cat accelerated their shots until they were shooting right after each other. Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

  Blood stated, his eyes on Cat, “That is a woman resolved never to be fucked with again.”

  Cat turned at his words, noticing him standing there. She paused, lowering the gun. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he replied, his mirrored shades sweeping down her body to the gun.

  “I can explain,” she said sheepishly.

  He smirked. “You can?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Not at all.”

  He looked at the target that was mostly unscathed. “Well, you scared the hell out of it, at least.”

  “I suck.”

  “Looks like you could use a few pointers.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’m done.”

  “Nope. Not till you get a bullseye.”

  She looked at him like he couldn’t be serious. “You’re joking right?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then I guess we’ll be here all night.”

  “Nah. I’ve got faith in you.”

  Her brows shot up. “Oh, you do, do you?”

  “Yep. I’ve seen you in action, remember?” He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and showed her how to hold the gun. Then his hands dropped to her hips. and he re-positioned her stance. His mouth was at her ear. “Eyes on the target. Take a deep breath, let it out, and slowly squeeze the trigger.”

  She did as he said.

  Bam.

  She hit low and to the left.

  Blood adjusted her arm. “Again.”

  She repeated the steps he’d taught her, breathing in and out slowly, and then fired.

  Bam.

  She hit the outer edge of the center circle.

  “Again.”

  Her next shot hit the center circle.

  “Again. Take your time.”

  She hit the center circle about two inches left of dead center.

  “I did it!”

  He grinned, taking the gun from her hands. “Thanks, babe. You just won me ten bucks.”

  “Hey, Thelma.”

  Cat turned to find Tammy staring at her. The girl winked. “Nice shot.”

  Cat smiled. “Thanks, Louise.”

  Tammy almost smiled before turning away.

  Blood met Cat’s eyes, having caught the exchange. He gave her a chin lift, a smile tuggin
g at his mouth as well. She gave it back.

  “You teach all your women to shoot? Fatal mistake, bro,” Sandman said. “She may put a bullet in you.”

  Blood answered, his eyes still on Cat. “Nah, she wouldn’t do that. Besides, she already had her chance to put a slug in me.” He pulled the clip out, loaded a new one, stepped to the line, chambered a round, and fired off several shots at the target.

  Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

  Blood turned to see Cat watching him with a new regard. After a moment, she murmured, “I don’t know if it’s what you were going for, but I’m really turned on right now.”

  Blood took the clip back out and handed the gun back to one of the other girls. Then turned back to Cat with a cocky expression on his face. “Baby, that’s always what I’m going for.”

  She smiled.

  He stepped over, grabbed her hips, and pulled her flush against him. “You want to take me up on my earlier offer?” She put a hand to his chest, pushing back, but he had no intention of releasing her. “We can only circle the flame for so long, Sweetness. And waiting’s not in my nature.”

  Sandman stepped to the line with a machine gun, breaking the moment. “You have a funny way of picking up women.” He fired the gun at the target, round after round until there was nothing left.

  Cat put her hands over her ears, the sound deafening.

  When Sandman was done, he hefted it up, barrel toward the sky and turned back to them. “The 240 Saw; she’s a badass bitch. Carried it in Iraq. Nothing like humping around 25.6 pounds of pure chaos.”

  Blood shook his head. “Did you have to blow our eardrums out and put a hole in the stockade?”

  Sandman cupped his hand to his ear pretending not to hear. “Sorry, I can’t hear you over two hundred rounds of awesome.”

  “Seriously, dude. Waste of ammo.”

  “Hey, they wouldn’t put two hundred rounds in an ammo belt if you weren’t supposed to use ‘em.”

  Blood shook his head. “You’ll have to excuse my compadre. He spent too much time in Iraq.”

  Sandman grinned. “Haters gonna hate.”

  “Why do you need one of those?”

  “I didn’t until I found out it pissed you off,” Sandman teased him.

  Blood huffed out a laugh. “And you’re gonna carry that heavy ass bitch when we go out on a run?”