SHADES: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series Book 3) (19 page)

“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.

Skylar looked over Shades’ shoulder and down the road, and she couldn’t imagine where in the world he was taking her.

Finally, as they reached a curve in the shoreline, he turned off onto a dirt drive that led to a small A-frame cabin. It was set up from the shoreline on a slight rise that gave it a magnificent view of the lake and the mountain ridges in the far distance. It was a spectacular vista.

He stopped the bike and shut it off. She stared, stunned.

“Babe, climb off.” His words shook her from her daze. She scrambled off, and he dropped the kickstand and got off.

“Where are we?” she asked, glancing around. The place appeared to be quiet as if it was deserted.

“My place,” he informed her as he headed toward the entrance.

“Your place?” she asked, and she was sure her voice couldn’t have come out more stunned.

He looked back at her as he jammed a key in the door and unlocked it. “Yeah, my place.”

She followed him inside. The interior of the cabin was all beautiful honey-golden wood. The floors, the walls, the ceilings. And beyond, facing the lake was a stunning wall of windows. It really was breathtaking.

In front of the windows was the living area, a small stone fireplace off to the right. Behind the living area and next to where she was standing by the back entrance, was a small kitchen with an open bar that faced the wall of windows and the lake beyond. There were several barstools tucked under it.

Shades threw his keys on the bar, shrugged out of his cut and tossed it over the back of one of the barstools, and then stalked into the small kitchen.

Skylar took a few steps into the living room, toward the windows. The view was amazing. There was a deck out front and a dock beyond that, but no boat of any kind tied up to it. Turning, Skylar’s eyes lifted to the high vaulted ceilings, and she saw the loft above, with the kitchen area tucked in under it. There was a staircase leading up to it off to the left.

“You want something to drink?” Shades asked, and Skylar’s eyes dropped from the loft to see that he was standing in front of the refrigerator, one arm propped on the open door.

“I’ll take a cola if you have one.”

He reached inside and grabbed a couple cans and returned to her. Stopping in front of her, he held one out. She took it.

“Thanks.”

He popped the top on his and guzzled some down.

That he owned this place was just so shocking. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for clues to just who this new Shades was. There was a plaid couch, but it wasn’t old or ratty. It actually seemed like good quality. An old wooden chest served as a coffee table. Motorcycle magazines were scattered over it. She glanced to the fireplace. A few knickknacks on the mantle, a candle, a small clock, and what looked like a bike part. Her eyes lifted to the large framed photo mounted above it. It was a black and white. A line of guys on bikes sat facing the camera, some western mountain range in the background.

He came to stand behind her, and she felt his heat against her back.

“Trip to Sturgis couple years back,” he enlightened her. “Black Hills. Way in the background, that’s Mount Rushmore.”

“It’s a great shot.” She leaned closer. “Which one are you?”

“Third from the right.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“We still got some shit to talk about. You want to do it in here or out on the deck?”

She turned back to him. His expression was unreadable, but there was tension around his mouth and eyes. He wasn’t as pissed off as he’d seemed when they’d left the clubhouse. Perhaps the ride had calmed him down. She looked toward the windows. “The deck.”

He opened the door, and she followed him out. It smelled fresh and clean, like pine trees, water and flowers. She could hear frogs croaking and crickets chirping.

“Have a seat.”

She glanced around. The deck wasn’t overly large, but it was V shaped, thrusting out to a point toward the water. Instead of your standard wooden railing with spindles, the deck was enclosed with clear glass panels, so as not to obscure the view. Skylar couldn’t help but think that was worth every penny of added cost.

There was a small table and chairs. Shades sat in one, and she sat in the one next to him. She took a sip of her drink and looked out over the lake, suddenly nervous around him. No longer sure he even wanted her around. And the last thing she wanted was to be some place she wasn’t wanted. She’d had enough of that while growing up to last her a lifetime. Instead of ignoring it, she decided to face it head on. She turned to him and asked, “Do you want me here?”

He looked over at her and frowned. “Of course I want you here.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” He let out an aggravated breath. Great. Now she was an aggravation.

“Sky, it’s just a lot to take in. You and the DKs and all the rest of it.”

“I told you I don’t want to cause you trouble, I can go—”

“Skylar, would you shut up about that. It’s not about you causing me trouble, and I don’t ever want to hear you say anymore shit about leaving.”

“Then what is it about?”

“Things just got way more complicated.”

“Complicated as in no longer worth the trouble?”

“I didn’t say that. Don’t go putting words in my mouth.”

She shut up and brought the can to her lips, taking a pissed off drink.

“Babe…” He broke off, took a second to collect his thoughts and then continued. “We already had some stuff to work through. The list just got longer is all.” He shook his head. “Still tryin’ to wrap my head around you bein’ with a DK.”

“Shades, earlier at the party, before they showed up, you went to great lengths to explain to me that we both were going to have to set our pasts aside if we were going to make this work. I think the problem is you only thought it was going to be me having to put your shit aside, not the other way around.”

He ran his hand through his hair, his eyes on the horizon. “Maybe. Maybe it’s just that if there were any guys in your past…”

“What?”

“In my head, I guess I figured it’d be a pencil-pushing geeky accountant or some piss-ant sales manager.” He lifted his can and shook his head. “Not a member of the fuckin’ Devil Kings.”

She watched him take a drink, his eyes still on the horizon. “So where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know.”

Her stomach dropped. That sounded like he wasn’t sure their relationship could go anywhere from here. “Tell me we can work through this, Shades. Please. I don’t want to lose you again.”

He turned his head then, his eyes coming to hers, and his hand reached out for hers. “You’re not going to lose me again, Sky. I’m in this. You understand? For the long-haul.”

She nodded and felt the pressure around her heart ease.

His eyes went back to the view. “Just gotta figure some shit out.”

“Can we…figure it out in bed?” she asked softly.

His head swiveled, and he studied her a long moment. He set his can down and pulled hers from her hand and set it down as well. “First smart thing you’ve said all day.”

She rolled her eyes.

He stood up and pulled her from her chair, and then he was striding through the door, across the floor and up the stairs. And she was hurrying to keep up with him.

When they got to the loft, she realized it was much bigger than it’d looked from below.

There was plenty of headroom where she’d thought the ceiling would have been closing in on them. There was room enough for the large king bed that sat front and center. How he’d gotten a bed that size up here, she couldn’t imagine. Behind it was a large window. He moved to it and pushed it open, letting in a cool breeze. When they slept, their heads would be right next to it. She liked that. She’d be able to lie and listen to the night sounds.

Shades moved toward the bed, pulling his tee shirt over his head as he went. Her eyes drifted over his muscular back from his powerful shoulders to his narrow hips and the two dimples at the small of his back. Then he was turning to face her, and he caught her eyes checking out his ass.

He grinned.

As he tossed the shirt in his fist to the floor, she took in his chest and abs. And then his hands were unbuckling his belt. He pulled it free and dropped it. When his belt hit the floor with a bang and a clatter, their restraint seemed to fall with it, as if the sound triggered the release of their self-control. They both moved simultaneously toward each other, coming together with grasping arms and clutching hands.

Shades grabbed her head in his hands, and his mouth plundered hers, and it was almost as if he had something to prove, as if he was claiming her, as if all the talk of her with a Devil King member had driven something in him.

She was just as urgent to prove to Shades that it was him she wanted, it was him she’d
always
wanted.

He broke the kiss long enough to pull her shirt over her head. His hands immediately going to the waist of her jeans, but even in his hurry, his eyes took the time to travel over every inch of her exposed cleavage. He opened her jeans, and then squatted down to yank them to her feet. She stepped out of them and kicked them aside. The pretty lacy matching bra and panty had him pausing a moment to take in the sexy vision she presented to him.

He hit his knees, and his big hands closed over her waist, then slid up to the edge of her bra and back down to the top of her panty. He pressed a soft kiss to her belly, and then his hands slid around her waist and up her back to the closure of her bra. With a flick of his fingers, the hooks popped free, and then his fingers were curling around her bra straps to pull them slowly down her arms, tossing it aside.

On his knees, he was the perfect height to capture a nipple with his hot mouth. Skylar’s head fell back as her eyes closed, and she felt the pull and tug shoot through her as his mouth drew deeply on her. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and she held him to her.

His hands ran over her bottom, his fists kneading her cheeks as his mouth moved to her other nipple. She felt her knees get weak, and then his arms were locking around her thighs, holding her up as his mouth wouldn’t let up.

Then his mouth broke free as he trailed a line of soft open-mouthed kisses down her belly. His hands hooked in the lace at her hips and drew them down her hips.

Before she knew what he was about, he was on his feet and lifting her to toss her on the bed, coming down on top of her. She wrapped her arms around him, loving the feel of his weight on her as his muscular chest pressed her down, pinning her to the bed.

His hands held her head still as his mouth plundered hers.

He still had his jeans on, and the rough material stroked over her skin as he moved on top of her, his knee coming down between her thighs, spreading them apart, and then he was settling his hips in the cradle of her thighs. The course fabric rasped over her sex, and she moaned. He rocked his hips, dragging against her again as he held himself above her. Studying her reactions as they played across her face, he smiled, repeating the motion again and again until she was writhing under him.

“I want you wild and needy and hungry for it, baby.”

“I am. I am.”

He shook his head, stroking again. “More.”

Her hands slid down his back, scratching lightly and then she grabbed his ass, pulling him even harder against her. She could feel his erection, hard and long pressed against the placket of his jeans, pressing against
her
.