Shades (Evil Dead MC 3)

He rolled his eyes. “Let’s just say I won’t be tattooing her name on my arm any time soon.”

Skylar almost spit her drink out. “Ghost, do you have someone’s name tattooed on you?”

Ghost groaned and looked over at Shades. “I don’t know when to shut up, do I?”

Shades chuckled. “Apparently not.”

“Let me see!” Skylar insisted with a grin.

Ghost shoved his short sleeve up to his shoulder and tapped his fingers on a large skull shaped design. “Used to be a name. I had it covered up.”

Skylar’s fingers reached out to touch the intricate art with awe. Then her eyes lifted to his.

“Do tattoos hurt?”

Ghost looked at her and said with a straight face, “Not at all. They feel like a million kittens licking your skin.”

Skylar turned to Shades. “I want to get a tattoo.”

He about choked on his beer before managing to bite out with brows raised, “Oh, hell no, you don’t.”

“Just how many drinks have you had, Hotrod?” Ghost asked with a grin, dropping his sleeve.

She grinned. “I don’t know. I lost count.”

****

Shades sipped his drink, waiting for Skylar to return from the restroom. The bar was now crowded with not only the club, but with other tourists. He finally spotted her making her way through the packed bar. As she passed a group of several guys, one of them stepped in front of her blocking her way, then he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. She gave him a pissed off look and tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

Shades was off his barstool in a flash, coming between the punk and Skylar, pushing her behind him.

“You don’t touch her, motherfucker,” Shades snapped.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Her ol’ man. What the fuck did you just say to her?”

“I asked her what the hell she was doing with a bunch of losers like you.”

Shades’ fist came out and connected with the man’s jaw, dropping him to the floor.

Skylar gasped and Ghost pulled her back out of the way.

“Sometimes people don’t know when to shut up,” Shades said, standing over the body of the guy he’d just knocked out.

“You got a short temper tonight, Brother?” Ghost asked, peering over Shades’ shoulder at the guy out cold on the floor.

Shades shook his hand out and flexed it. “I don’t have a short temper, I just have a low tolerance for bullshit.”

The guy groaned.

Shades kicked him in the gut. “Talk shit, get hit, motherfucker.”

“Why did he do that?” Skylar murmured from next to her father, where Ghost had shoved her.

“It was your honor he was fighting for, baby girl,” Undertaker said in a low voice. “Here, finish your drink.”

She turned away from the scene, a little shaken. She’d never seen Shades like that before.