Shades (Evil Dead MC 3)

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 wom

an—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.”