SHADES: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series Book 3) (21 page)

Shades stared at Ghost. “What, a phone call couldn’t have done that?”

Ghost shrugged. “No clue. I do what I’m told.”

“Something you’re not tellin’ me, Brother?”

Ghost’s eyes moved from Shades to Skylar and back, and she suddenly felt like they needed privacy. She started to push her chair back. “I’ll leave you two to your business.”

“Not necessary, darlin’,” Ghost insisted. Then he looked at Shades. “I’ve got nothing I can tell you, Brother. I just need to make sure you show up. Maybe he thought you and Skylar might slip town.”

Shades stared at Ghost, and then took a sip of his coffee. He looked calm, but Skylar noticed his jaw tighten. Something was up, and he knew it. Apparently, he was letting it slide that his brother wasn’t being more forthcoming.

“What time’s he expecting us?”

Ghost lifted his chin toward the mug in Shades hand and grinned. “You got time to drink your coffee.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Ghost replied, still grinning.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Shades walked into Butcher’s office.

Butcher looked up. “Sit down.”

Shades frowned at his gruff tone. He closed the door and sat down.

“This about the DKs?”

“This is about a lot of shit.” Butcher paused to light up a cigarette, then he tossed his silver Zippo lighter on the desk with a clatter. His eyes met Shades’ through the smoke. “You plan on makin’ Skylar your ol’ lady?”

Shades didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

Butcher took a deep irritated breath. “I get it, Brother. I do. She’s beautiful. Fuckin’ gorgeous, and we all love her. But she’s comin’ with a shit ton of baggage. You sure you want to sign on for that?”

Shades ran a frustrated hand down his face and blew out a breath. “I know what kind of shit storm this is bringing down on the club. The DKs showin’ at the gate yesterday and—”

“This ain’t about that. The fuckin’ DKs I can deal with.”

“Then what’s this about?” Shades frowned in confusion. What the hell else could it be about?

Butcher hollered out, “Ghost, get in here!”

The door opened immediately, as if Ghost had been waiting right outside the door. Waiting to be called in here. What the fuck was going on?

“You get it?” Butcher snapped.

Shades watched Ghost’s eyes flick to him, and then he was reaching inside his vest. He pulled out a small rectangular paper and slid it across the desk to Butcher. Then he looked up at Shades and said, “Sorry, Brother. Boss’s orders.”

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.”