SHADES: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series Book 3) (29 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

At nine o’clock they headed toward the state-line. They pulled into the crushed-seashell and gravel lot of the bar that had stood on the beachfront location for more than fifty years. They parked their bikes in a line near the side of the building.

A cool breeze was blowing in off the Gulf, and the sound of the surf crashing on the beach carried to them as they headed inside. Shades led them to the far end of the bar where they all took a barstool.

The brothers they were to meet up with had yet to arrive, but they were half an hour early, as was Shades’ plan.

The bartender headed over and dropped coasters in front of each of them as he eyed their vests, then their faces. The colors they wore may look familiar, but Shades knew their faces were all new to him.

“What’ll you boys have?” he asked.

As Ghost, Blood and Sandman surveyed the room, Shades ordered for all of them. The bartender began pulling bottles of beer from a tub of ice and popping the tops off them as he set them down in front of each man.

“We don’t want any trouble in here,” he said.

Shades looked at him. “We don’t want any trouble either.”

The bartender gave him a nod and walked away.

Ghost leaned into Sandman and nodded toward a skanky blonde. “There’s one for ya. She’s not the best lookin’ girl here, but beauty’s only a light switch away, Bro.”

Blood almost choked on a mouthful of beer.

At ten to ten, they heard the roar of pipes and could see through a window as a pack of bikes rolled in, their chrome gleaming in the moonlight. A few moments later, in trooped seven of their brothers.

Shades straightened from leaning against the bar and moved forward to greet them.

He embraced one after another, as did Ghost, Blood and Sandman.

Shades knew Case, Coop and Deez, but he’d had to be introduced to the other five. There was Moon, the Chapter President. Rocker, their VP, and Brick and Pipe.

He could see by looking at Moon and Rocker that they were both hopped up on something. Coke, maybe. Methamphetamines, more likely.

They moved off to a table, and Shades’ eyes connected with Case. Case joined the five of them at the bar.

“How ya been you furry bastard?” Ghost asked him.

Case stroked his three-inch long beard. “It’s purty, ain’t it?”

“A thing of beauty. What have you been up to?”

“Got my Dyna up and running finally.”

Ghost grinned. “It’s about time you put that moped back together. Come the fuck home for a weekend. We need a night out.”

Case chuckled. “Hey maybe we can grab Griz and drive 50 miles to the nearest Thai spot that’s closed.”

Ghost started laughing. “That was some night. I wanted to kill him.”

Case pulled a cigarette from his pack and put it in his mouth, then talked around it. “Remember we were so hungry by then that we ended up eating five dollar pizza?”

“It was fucking good, too.”

“By then gas station hotdogs would have tasted good.”

Sandman looked over. “Hey, I like gas station hotdogs.”

Blood swiveled his head toward him. “You would. Don’t you have a blonde to go bother?”

Sandman looked over at her. “I’m lettin’ her ferment a while.”

“Yeah, that’ll help.”

“Your Shovel-head still leaking oil everywhere you park it?” Case asked Ghost.

“It’s not leaking oil. It’s marking its territory.”

Case chuckled. “Right.”

The bartender took his order and brought him a beer. His cell went off, and he looked down at the screen. “Mutha-fucking hell. 12 missed calls. Women. If I don’t answer the fucking phone she immediately thinks I’m cheating. It’s like,
Bitch, I’m riding!
”

“No shit,” Sandman agreed with a laugh. “Testify.”

“Am I right?” Case asked him.

“You’re right.”

“Thank you.”

“But you do manage to keep her happy and around.”

Case shrugged. “I got a sweet ass.”

Shades looked over his shoulder at the table in the corner where the other Gulf Chapter members had taken up residence, and then back at Case. “This the usual with them?”

“Yup. Been binging for two days now.”

“You?”

“Me? Shit no. I steer clear of that crap. I’m high enough on life, can’t you tell?”

A grin pulled at the corner of Shades’ mouth, but he nodded toward the table. “It becoming a problem?”

“Hey, he’s my Prez. What do you want me to say here?”

“We’re here to help, Case. I’m gonna be straight with you. This is between you and me, understood?” Shades said in a low hushed voice.

Case nodded.

“Future of your whole chapter is on the line.”

“Fuck.”

“Exactly. You don’t want the Nomads showin’ up to clean house do you? So come clean with me. How bad is this shit?”

“Bad. And getting worse. The binges are starting to become more frequent and lasting longer every time.”

“That where the profits are going? Cause I know your business isn’t down.”

Case nodded. “Yeah, most likely.”

“So you’ve got a President and VP strung out half the time. How the hell does anything get done down here?”

“The rest of us are all trying to hold it together. It’s been rough.”

“Case, get your ass over here,” Rocker yelled across the room.

Case moved off to join the brothers from his chapter.

Ghost and Shades exchanged a look.

“It’s fucked up worse than Butcher thought,” Ghost observed, leaning his elbows on the bar.

“Yeah, I don’t think he had any idea things were this bad,” Shades replied.

Blood and Sandman kept silent, quietly smoking and staring at a sign above the bar that read,
Alabama: where the weak are killed and eaten.

Blood grinned. So prophetic.

Shades nursed his beer, his elbows on the bar, and thought about his options. He couldn’t really give Moon any orders, not that it would help. If this drug problem was as bad as he suspected, nothing short of pulling his patch would fix the problems in this chapter. That wasn’t something he had the authority to do. The state authority fell to Butcher, so that was a call
he
was going to have to make.

A few minutes later an older grey haired man went behind the bar and to the register. He ran a tally report of the day’s business so far. His eyes strayed to Shades and the rest of his crew, his gaze flicking over all of them, taking note of their colors.

“You Jerry, the owner?” Shades caught his attention. Butcher had filled him in with some information.

“Yeah.” His look said, ‘what of it’. He strolled over to him.

“I was sent down here to take a…shall we say, closer look at our Gulf Chapter. Clean up any problems we may have.”

“And?”

“And I want to know how this
relationship
is working out for you.”

“It’s not.”

Well, that was abrupt, Shades thought. “Tell me why.”

“Look, most of your boys mind their own business and don’t cause trouble.”

“Most?”

Jerry nodded, his eyes going to the group at the table.

Shades turned his head, following his gaze. Then he turned back. “Let me guess. The two in the corner?”

Jerry nodded again. “Mostly when those two are high on something.”

Shades nodded, taking it in.

“Death Heads are worse.”

Shades frowned. “The Death Heads MC has been coming round?”

“Yeah. Stick around. They’ll probably be in here tonight. Was a time they wouldn’t dare. Now they’re running off all my business. I was led to believe that being in good with the Evil Dead was going to keep those assholes off my back.”

Shades reached his hand under his cut, pulled out the envelope Butcher had given him and slid it across the bar. “For your troubles.” Then he lifted his chin toward the table. “That will be taken care of. You got my word.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.” Jerry slid the envelope in his pocket and walked off.

“That was diplomatic,” Blood commented, sipping on his beer.

“We alienate the locals, we become persona non grata around here. That’s not happening.”

“Makes sense.”

“We need to move the bikes to the back.”

“What for?”

“The Death Heads have been showing up here.” Shades shrugged. “They do tonight, we’ll have the element of surprise. They’ll walk in here blind.”

“Doesn’t hardly seem like a fair fight, does it?” Sandman asked.

Blood grinned. “If you find yourself in a fair fight your tactics suck.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

The rumble of pipes could be heard from outside. Brick, who’d been posted at the window, turned his head and announced, “Six Death Heads rollin’ in.”

Shades, Ghost, Blood, and Sandman all knocked back their drinks and rose from their barstools.

“Show time, boys,” Shades announced. The other seven Gulf Chapter members, joined them in heading toward the entrance, slowly pulling on black leather gloves as they went.

Shades put his arm out, holding them back from going out the door. “Let ‘em dismount first. We don’t want to give ‘em a chance to pull back out.”

Blood dipped his head, peering through the blinds and past the neon bar sign in the front window. “Least not until we beat their asses first.”

The men all watched through the window, as the men dismounted. Five headed toward the door. One hung back making a call on his cell.

“Now,” Moon ordered.

Shades threw the door open and stormed out.

The six members of the Death Heads froze in shock as twelve members of the Evil Dead MC poured out the door.

“Oh shit!” one of them hissed.

Taking advantage of the surprise, the Evil Dead jumped them in a fight that was two on one. Even though they were outnumbered, the Death Heads MC had no intention of going down easily. They fought back viciously. Fists connected with jaws. Bodies charged each other. When one of them went to ground, he was stomped and kicked savagely. The fight was a violent and brutal confrontation with no holds barred.

It wasn’t long before a dozen squad cars barreled into the lot, lights flashing.

Soon the fight was broken up, and the two MCs were separated. The Death Heads were cuffed face down in the gravel, and the Evil Dead were cuffed to the metal railing that ran along the front of the building.

“Christ, Blood, I thought you were gonna kill that guy,” Shades grumbled, shaking his head.

Sandman spit some blood on the ground. “He probably would have if the cops didn’t show up,”

Blood shrugged. “I may have some unresolved childhood issues.”

“No shit,” Shades agreed with a chuckle.

Ghost looked over at Blood. “How does a man with your obvious people skills end up like
this
?” He rattled his cuffs against the rail.

“Shut the fuck up,” Blood growled back with a half grin.

Sandman, who was cuffed to a support post with Blood, looked over at him and remarked, “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be cuffed to a pole with than you, peaches.”

Blood glared back at him. “Yeah, well I can think of a few people I’d rather
you
be cuffed to a pole with.”

“I fuckin hate being handcuffed. This sucks,” Ghost grumbled.

Sandman mumbled, “Life should be more like hockey. When someone pisses you off, you just beat the shit out of them, then sit in the penalty box for five minutes.”

Ghost rattled the metal cuffs against the pole again. “Clue in, Sandman. This is the MC version of the penalty box.”

“Yeah, well we’ve been here a fuck-of-a-lot longer than five goddamned minutes.”

It took the officers a while to get everyone’s story, including that of the owner, who nodded towards Shades.

Shades could only wonder what he’d told him as the County Sheriff ambled toward Shades. Since both the owner and the sheriff were on the Evil Dead payroll, he had an inkling how this little chat was gonna go. The sheriff stopped in front of him and put his hands on his hips.

“The owner says the Death Heads are the ones that started this. Said you all were quietly drinking inside and not causing any trouble. That true?”

“Of course, Sheriff,” Shades agreed with a smug smile.

Sandman went to lean back against the horizontal railing that attached to the vertical post he and Blood were cuffed to. He stumbled and landed flat on his ass.

Ghost looked down at him. “You missed.”

“You are so disappointing,” Blood muttered down at Sandman who lay on the ground at his feet, his hands still cuffed to the post.

“I’m okay,” Sandman replied and tried to stand, but banged his head on the connecting horizontal railing with a loud crack. “Less okay.”

Ghost chuckled.

The Sheriff peered down at Sandman, then asked Shades, “Your friend here party a little too hard?”

“Don’t worry, Officer, I’m the designated driver,” Blood put in.

The sheriff, who apparently had a pinch of chewing tobacco between his cheek and gums, turned his head and spit on the ground. “Smart ass is what you are.”

Blood looked over at the man’s spit. “That’s just gross.”

The men all snickered.

Even though the two MCs were separated, the Death Heads began yelling shit to the Evil Dead across the parking lot.

“You’re all dead, motherfuckers!”

Without missing a beat, Case yelled back, “Yeah.
Evil
Dead, and don’t you fucking forget it!”

Ghost shouted, “Go back to Gatorville, dickhead! We claim this bar. This coast. This state. It all belongs to the Evil Dead, and the fucking Death Heads aren’t welcome in this state.”

“Not for long, asshole!” came the response back from across the parking lot.

Shades looked over at the sheriff and quirked a brow. “You hear that? Is that what you want? The Death Heads MC getting a foothold in this town? In this state? Because let me tell you that’s only the start. You allow them across that bridge, you let them cross that inter-coastal, and you are opening hell’s gates.”

“Oh, and your boys are a bunch of boy scouts, huh?”

“Have we caused any trouble in this town?”

“Not yet.”

“No, we haven’t, and you got my word, we won’t.”

“Your word? That supposed to mean something to me?”

One of the Death Heads shouted, “We’ll be back tomorrow with the entire chapter at our back!”

“We’ll be waiting for you, motherfuckers!” Blood shouted back.

Shades brows rose, giving the cop an ‘I told you so’ look. “You hear that? They’re gonna be coming enforce tomorrow. Right across that state line, and then right across the inter-coastal bridge. And then they’re gonna roll right through your pretty town. Makin’ a statement.”

The sheriff smiled back at Shades. “Maybe we’ll be makin’ a statement of our own tomorrow.”

Shades grinned back. “I’m all for that
.
”

Twenty minutes later, the Evil Dead members were all being released.

As Blood threw his leg over his bike and lifted it off its kickstand, he looked over at Shades.

“How the hell did we get released, free to go, and the Death Heads are all still face down in the gravel?”

Shades grinned back at him. “It’s good to have the local boys in your pocket.”

Blood grinned back and shook his head. “That and the owner who’s pressing the charges.”