SHADES: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series Book 3) (8 page)

She stared at her reflection in the mirror over the sink, not believing this was happening. What had gone wrong? Last week everything was so good between them. She tried to think back to the exact moment that everything had changed. He hadn’t been distant the last time they were together. But after that, all week his texts had been short, and he’d never called. What they’d just shared had been so hot, and then so sweet. And then he
dumps
her?

The pain of every time she’d ever been moved from one foster home to another came back. The feelings of rejection and not being good enough flooded her. What was the point of ever letting herself get attached to anything or anyone, or of ever letting herself care? It always ended. It was always torn from her.

She thought she’d really found something with Shades. She’d thought she’d finally found someone she could trust and depend on and let her guard down with. She felt like such a fool.

She brushed the tears from her cheeks, refusing to let him see her cry. Refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how devastated she was. The only way she was going to be able to do that was to stop feeling hurt and start feeling angry. What an asshole dick move to fuck her one last time before he dumped her.
We had a good run, babe. Don’t be ugly about it, babe.

What a dick!

And then her eyes fell on the rosary hanging over the edge of the mirror. He’d obviously taken it off before he’d taken his shower. Before she thought about what she was doing she lifted it off the mirror and shoved it in her pocket.

She flung the door open, fully expecting to have to face Shades the moment she did, but he was nowhere in sight. Obviously, he’d gone downstairs. She peered over the rail and saw him down in the garage, pacing, talking on his cell phone.

She moved to his dresser, opened a drawer and pulled out one of his tees. There was no way in hell she was leaving in this torn shirt. She yanked it on over her shirt, and as she pulled it down, her eyes fell on a roll of bills that had been stashed under the shirt.

Thinking of what an ass he was being to her, she had no problem grabbing up the money and stuffing it in her pocket. Then she realized as soon as he saw her in this tee, he’d know she’d been in his drawer. Fuck. Glancing around, she spotted a flannel shirt hanging over one of the chairs. She tore off the tee, shoved it back in the drawer and grabbed up the flannel, putting it on.

Then she grabbed up her purse, stormed down the stairs and across the garage. Shades was still on the phone. He looked up as she headed toward the door, but she didn’t stop.

“Sky, wait.”

Not stopping. Not a chance.
She stormed out the door and jogged across the lot to her car. She was backing up and speeding off the lot when she saw him shoving his phone in his pocket as he came out the door after her. Her last look at him was in her rearview mirror as she sped away.

That night, she packed her shit and left town.

And she never looked back again.

Present day—

Skylar stared up at the ceiling above the bed. Thinking of that last night still tore her heart out all these years later. And seeing him again today had been so hard. It had brought back all the feelings she’d had for him. The moment she’d looked into his eyes, it was like they hadn’t been apart. It was like she was suddenly back in time ten years. He still had that power over her. He could still make her insides melt. She wasn’t sure he felt the same way, though.

Shades had been so pissed at her today at the clubhouse. Yes, she’d taken his money and his rosary, but he’d been the one to end things. So why did he care where she’d been all these years? Why did he care if she was Crash’s ol’ lady?

She huffed out a laugh. Cole. God bless him. Making up that story about Crash being her ol’ man. He must have sensed that was the only thing that was going to get a brother to back off a woman—if she already belonged to another brother. And since she’d ridden up with Crash, and Crash had been the one standing at the fire with his arm around her, it had only made sense for Cole to pretend she was Crash’s and not his.

It’d worked. She had to hand it to Cole. Shades had immediately backed off and let her go. But before that, hell, they’d almost come to blows over her. And what was that stuff Shades had said about not being a prospect anymore? Had Cole done something to him when he’d been a prospect?

There definitely seemed to be some bad blood there.

Skylar closed her eyes, determined to put it out of her head, but all she could see were Shades’ brown eyes staring into hers as he’d demanded to know where she’d been.

CHAPTER FIVE

Shades rode with his brothers in the procession behind the hearse that carried Bulldog’s casket. The line of bikes, two wide, stretched back about a mile with hundreds showing up to escort the ol’ man home. They rolled into the cemetery and circled around the drive to the far left section where a large polished-granite gravestone that read Evil Dead MC marked the area where all the Birmingham club members were laid to rest.

The hearse stopped near the marker. A green awning tent and a couple of rows of white chairs were set up where Bulldog’s plot was to be. The line of bikes parked in formation and riders dismounted. Several cars carried immediate family members, Bulldog’s ol’ lady and two daughters.

The family made their way to the seating, while six brothers chosen from the Birmingham Chapter served as pallbearers bringing the casket from the hearse to the graveside.

Shades and his chapter brothers lined up in a row opposite the grave from the chairs. Brothers from all over, that had shown up to pay their respects, encircled the gravesite. Shades noticed Cole and Crash standing among them.

When the service was over, as was the club’s custom, the brothers themselves shoveled the dirt that filled in the plot. Man by man, each taking a turn with a shovelful, they laid to rest their brother-in-arms.

After the rituals of burying their dead were through, Shades searched the crowd, wondering if Skylar was there somewhere, if she’d accompanied Crash to the funeral. He never spotted her that day, and knowing the two men were headed back to California that night, he wondered if he’d ever see her again.

Had she’d slipped through his fingers once again?

****

Several days later, the brothers that had descended from all over the country had all left town, and the clubhouse was getting back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be without their beloved VP.

Shades rolled through the back gate and parked his bike. Noticing a couple of his brothers standing next to a dirt bike, he strolled over. “What’s this?”

Ghost turned to look at him. “JJ supped-up this piece-of-shit dirt bike.”

“Supped-up how?” Shades cocked his head, studying the bike.

Griz answered with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. “Nitro.”

Shades looked over at the man who’d supplied the response, a man who got his name from his Grizzly Bear looks. That or his resemblance to the lead actor in the 1970’s TV show, Grizzly Adams. Shades was never clear on that one. “You’re shittin’ me, right?”

“Nope. Stick around. This ought to be good.”

JJ turned from his squatted position next to the bike where he was tightening a bolt. “That should do it.”

“You’re fucking insane. You know that, right?” Shades stared him dead in the eye. The skinny kid had just gotten his patch about a year ago. He was a bit of a daredevil and goofball but exceptional when it came to tense, stressful confrontations and situations. Shades was beginning to wonder if that wasn’t because he was too stupid to be afraid.

JJ grinned as he climbed on and fired it up. “Insane or
genius
?”

“No, seriously, JJ. This kind of shit didn’t work out too well for the Coyote.”

“Well, luckily this rocket wasn’t made by Acme, and I ain’t after a fuckin’ Roadrunner,” JJ replied.

“Let it rip, tater chip,” Griz encouraged the insanity.

A moment later, JJ hit the throttle and nitro, and the bike shot forward like a rocket, slamming right into the side of the clubhouse.

The men doubled over with laughter.

Ghost observed, “Impressive. It goes from zero to pile-of-junk in 2.1 seconds.”

Shades shook his head, chuckling. “Yeah, who coulda seen
that
coming?”

Ghost looked over at Shades. “You took off early last night. Missed a hell of a party.”

Shades grunted.

“Yeah, I had a hell of a hangover this morning,” Griz put in.

Ghost looked over at him. “Yeah? How’s your headache now?”

“It’s gone.”

“Hi, Daddy!” came a sing-song voice.

“It’s back.”

The men turned to see Griz’s sixteen year old daughter coming through the back gate. She had her daddy’s long legs and his thick blonde hair.

“Daddy, you know that car you said you’d buy me when I turned sixteen?”

“No.”

“Daddy!”

“I don’t remember saying anything like that.”

Her hands landed on her hips. “Daddy! Yes, you did.”

“Look out, Griz. She’s doing the hands-on-hips ploy,” Shades warned with a grin.

The men snickered.

“Anyway, I’ve decided I’d rather have a bike, like you.”

“Like hell!” Griz replied. “You ain’t gettin’ no bike.”

“Daddy!
You’ve
got one.”

“Correct.”

“But
I
can’t have one?”

“You’re two for two.”

She stomped her foot. “That’s not fair! Bobby got one when he turned sixteen. Why can’t I have one? You’re being sexist.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“If you let me have a bike, I’ll promise not to wear those cute little dresses you hate me wearing.”

“You seem to have misinterpreted the matter as up for debate.”

“Daddy!”

“And I better not catch you in those damn dresses!’

“Why can’t I have a bike?”

“Jesus Christ, Mindy. You’ll get a car. No bikes! We clear?”

She threw herself in his arms and kissed his face. “I knew you’d buy me a car!”

“Mindy, quit,” Griz muttered in an embarrassed voice.

“You know you love me.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to rub my nose in it.”

After she’d skipped back out, Shades let out a laugh. “Thought you weren’t buying her a car, Griz.”

“I wasn’t.” Griz frowned and turned to Ghost. “What just happened?”

Ghost slapped him on the back with a laugh. “I think she just played you for a car, dude.”

“Oh, man. Daughters. They ought to come with a handbook,” Griz grumbled.

“Yeah, so you could smack ‘em with it.” Ghost laughed.

“Want a noose to hang yourself?” Shades offered.

“Nice parenting style, Griz. What’s it called?” Heavy asked.

“It’s kind of an existential philosophy. It involves a carrot and a stick.”

“Yeah? How’s that workin’ for you?”

“It’s not. I think she just got the carrot, and I just got the stick.”

The men burst into laughter.

“Hey, JJ, isn’t that your ex ol’ lady at the gate?” Ghost turned to ask the man who was standing over by his mangled dirt bike, brushing himself off. JJ wandered over to the men and squinted his eyes toward the gate.

The men looked over to see a hot little redhead standing with her hands on her hips. The prospect at the gate wasn’t stupid enough to let her in without permission.

“Damn, but she was a fine piece of ass. Maybe she wants me back. How should I play this, cool and hard-to-get, friendly and flirty?” JJ had a crooked grin on his face.

“JJ, get your ass out here! I’m three months pregnant, you son-of-a-bitch!”

Griz and Shades turned from the woman just in time to watch JJ hightail it around the corner of the building. The two men exchanged a look. Griz pulled the cigarette from his mouth and observed, “Guess he decided to go with cowardly and terrified.”

They chuckled.

“This place is gettin’ to be like Grand Central Station. Let’s go inside,” Heavy suggested.

The men headed inside as the caterwauling at the gate continued. They walked into the darkened main room of the clubhouse and headed to the long bar at the back.

“Twisted. Manipulative. Devious,” Tater was muttering, his shoulders slumped over the bar.

“What’s that, your online dating profile?” Ghost asked with a smirk and a slap to his back.

“Shut the fuck up, smartass. My damn ol’ lady just blew through all our fucking savings.” He suddenly picked up the almost empty bottle of whiskey sitting in front of him and threw it at the shelf of bar glasses mounted in front of the mirror on the wall behind the bar. All but one smashed into pieces. Tater was a big ol’ teddy bear of a man. All the women in the club loved him and he almost always had a happy disposition. So this type of outburst was rare for him.

“You missed one,” Griz pointed out helpfully.

Tater casually walked around the bar, picked the only remaining intact glass up off the shelf and promptly threw it at Griz’s head.

“Something’s wrong with you, Brother,” Shades observed as Griz ducked out of the way.

Ghost clapped Shades on the back and corrected, “We don’t say wrong, we say
special
.”

“Hey, Prospect!” Tater shouted toward the kid by the door. “Get over here and clean this fucking glass up!”

“He’s gonna be a miserable prick to be around the next few days,” Shades conceded in a low voice.

Griz grinned. “Yeah. Well, he’s in the right place for that.”

Shades nodded. The mood around the clubhouse had indeed been somber, each brother taking the loss of Bulldog in their own way. Some with anger and outbursts, some with humor and cutting up.

“So when’s the meeting starting? Everyone here?” Shades asked, leaning back against the pool table.

Ghost moved around the bar and grabbed them each a bottle of beer and passed them out as he slouched against the pool table next to Shades. “Waitin’ on Spider. He’s on his way.”

Griz twisted the cap off his bottle and pitched it at Tater, who still stood behind the bar, his palms flat on the bar top, his shoulders slumped. When the bottle-cap hit him in the side of the head, Tater looked up and flipped Griz off.

Shades shook his head with a grin.

****

Boot and Slick sat at the table, behind closed doors. Church was going to start soon, but before it did, Butcher had asked to speak with the two brothers privately.

Now he looked over at the two men, both brothers who had been with the club for a long fucking time. Both brothers he knew he could trust with his life. Either one he knew would make a good VP.

Slick was the club’s Treasurer. In another life, a lifetime ago, he’d been an attorney. That was before he’d bought a bike, divorced his wife and, in her words, ‘
went off the deep end’
.

Butcher remembered riding with him not long after that, down in Florida during Daytona Bike Week. The three of them, Butcher, Slick and Boot had ended up hauled in for public intoxication.

When they’d been brought before the judge, the courtroom had been crowded. There was a line against the wall as defendants stood waiting for their turn to stand before the bench. When it had been Boot’s turn he took his place before the judge. Slick and Butcher waited in the line against the wall for their turn. The judge had asked Boot if he had an attorney present. The stupid fucker had looked back questioningly at Slick who was standing in the line in shackles with the rest of them. Slick had shook his head furiously at him. Boot turned back to the judge and replied, “No, your honor.”

Dumb motherfucker.

Butcher had looked at his feet as his shoulders shook with the laughter he’d tried to smoother in the quiet courtroom.

Now, what seemed like a lifetime later, it was still a funny story.

Butcher cleared his throat. Time to get down to business. “So, obviously we have a VP spot to fill. So let’s cut to the chase. Either of you interested?”

He eyed the two men. Their eyes moved from him to each other. Slick was the first to respond, his chair creaking loudly in the room as he leaned forward.

“With all due respect and all—
fuck, no
.”

Butcher grinned. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t need the headache, for one. For another, I think it’s time you bring up some younger blood. It’ll do the club good. Especially, with recruiting. They see they got a shot at some kind of position without waiting for all us old guys to die off, it might make a difference.”

Butcher nodded, considering his words. Then his gaze swung to Boot. “What about you?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather stick with being Sargent at Arms. More fun.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You good with fillin’ in until we can vote somebody else in?”

“Yeah. I’m good with that. Just don’t want the job permanent-like.”

Butcher leaned back. “You two got any ideas who you want to see as VP, then?”

They both replied at the same time. “Shades.”

Butcher nodded. “He’s a good man. Got his shit together. No question about loyalty.”