Shades (Evil Dead MC 3)

“She’s going,” Letty answered for her with a grin, then looked at Skylar. “What, there’ll be drinks there.”

“I thought we were going out.”

“We are. I just didn’t tell you where. Didn’t want to give you the chance to back out. I know how you are.”

Crash pulled Skylar by the hand, stealing her away from Cole. “No backing out. Come on, squirt, you’re on my bike. Sorry, Letty, but I’m not showin’ up at the club with my own sister riding bitch on the back of my bike.”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember your stupid rule about that.”

Cole grabbed Letty’s hand. “Come on, girl. You’re with me. I don’t mind you wrapping those long thighs around me,” he teased.

Twenty minutes later, they rolled up to the clubhouse of the Birmingham Chapter of the Evil Dead. It was buried back in the poor neighborhoods that bordered the old steel plant. Skylar held tight to Crash as they rolled up several side streets coming to a huge old two story clapboard house that sat, looming large, on a big corner lot. Skylar looked up at the building, remembering the times she’d been here with Letty that summer years ago.

Next to it sat an empty lot with overgrown grass. The two properties consumed the entire short block that ran between two side streets. The back of the clubhouse was surrounded by a six-foot privacy fence and backed up to an alley that faced a junkyard on the other side. Across the street was a burned out house, next to that an abandoned house. Obviously, the neighborhood was not primo real estate, and she figured the club liked it that way. The fewer people and neighbors to mess with them, the better, apparently.

The front yard was overgrown, the sides overrun with tall bamboo and kudzu vines. There was a waist-high chain link fence around the front yard and a rusty gate she doubted anyone ever used. The metal mailbox out on the street was painted black with Evil Dead MC in white stencil across it. Up on the front porch in a chair by the door sat a skeleton holding a scythe like some leftover Halloween decoration, except for the Evil Dead support tee shirt it wore.

The bikes turned the corner and circled around back to the alley, which led to the only entrance members used. There was a double wooden gate with the club name, Evil Dead painted, top-rocker style across it. One word on each portion of the swinging gates that, when closed, formed the name. Up on the back side of the house was painted a winged skeleton holding a scythe, looking down at the back of the property as if guarding it.

Crash and Cole rolled through the back gate and into the large gravel lot that took up over an acre. The sun was sinking low on the horizon, its bright setting light hitting at a sharp angle and turning everything a brilliant golden. A bonfire had been started in an old oil drum in the center. About a dozen members were gathered around it, more members at picnic tables or milling around. The place was packed, the wake being a mandatory turnout. In addition to club members, there was also a strong showing of support clubs. A line of bikes three deep were parked around the outer edge of the property, backed up to the wood fence. Cole and Crash rolled along the line and backed their bikes into a couple of open spots.

Skylar climbed off the back of Crash’s bike and handed him the helmet he’d lent her. Climbing off, the men stashed the helmets on the ground, under the bikes. Crash looped his arm around Skylar’s neck and led her toward the fire. Cole did the same with Letty, pulling her close.

Skylar stayed silent as they greeted several of their brothers, recognizing some faces from the old days. Others were new members they’d never met, but brothers just the same. Nervousness filled her. Her eyes darted around, searching. There was only one biker here that she feared running into. The one who had broken down all her walls, made her fall in love with him, and then ripped her heart out.

CHAPTER TWO

Shades watched Skylar walk toward him, another brother’s arm around her, and his gut twisted. His mind drifted back to the first time he’d laid eyes on her. She’d been young t

hen, eighteen, if he remembered correctly. At the time, he was just a prospect and had been ordered to guard the back gate for an all day party the club was having.

Ten years ago—

Shades stood at the back gate and Boot, a full patched member, was standing next to him when an old Mustang drove up and parked in the adjacent grassy lot. It stopped in a cloud of dust, and Shades watched as two hot young babes emerged and strutted toward them.

“Who’re they?” he asked.

Boot lit a smoke, looking over at the two girls. “That’s Letty, Crash’s little sister. The other one’s her friend. And don’t even think about it, Prospect. They’re off limits.”

The girls had smiled brightly at Boot as they’d breezed through the gate. Shades’ eyes skated over the first one, a pretty girl with dark blonde hair that hung to her waist, and moved on to land on the second girl. She was a knockout. Her silky dark hair also hung to her curvy bare waist, exposed between her low-cut jeans and skimpy top. His eyes slid down over her body and a pair of very long legs encased in those tight jeans. She smiled at the two men as they entered, and Shades caught his breath when he got a close up of her face. She had the most amazing vibrant blue eyes that stood out all the more in contrast to her dark hair.

Hot damn. She sure was a looker.

Almost unaware he was doing it, he murmured, “Christ, that girl’s got it goin’ on.” His eyes followed her swaying ass as she walked away, and what a fine ass it was. Thoughts of how it’d feel to grab her by the hips and pull her back against his straining cock filled his head. The fantasy didn’t last long before it was broken by a hard fist pound to his chest. He yanked his gaze around to see a stern expression on Boot’s face.

“What’d I just say, Prospect?”

“Hands-off. I heard you.”

“Don’t fuckin’ forget it or Crash and Cole will both tear you up,” Boot warned.

“Cole? What does he care?”

“Cole looks after that one like she was his own little sister, and since he’s your fucking sponsor, you had best just fucking steer clear.”

“All right, old man. All right.”

All through the party, he kept track of her, though. She was definitely not at all like the type that usually caught his eye, bleach-bottle-blondes who dressed in trashy clothes with piercings, tattoos and a hard edge. This girl couldn’t be further from that. She was dark haired, long and lean. Her skin was perfection with not a mark on it as far as he could see. Everything about her said clean, fresh and soft. And damned if it didn’t call to him.