Shades (Evil Dead MC 3)

Blood turned and moved through the sliding door.

Shades turned back to Skylar. “What’s got into you, woman? Talking to Blood that way.”

“Blood can kiss my ass.” God that man was so infuriating

“Ok, he’s a bastard. But calling him a coward, those are fighting words.”

“I thought she was awesome.” Ghost grinned at her.

Shades glanced at Ghost with a look that said, stay out of this, and then his eyes returned to Skylar. “Babe, never seen you like this before. Never seen you go off on someone like that before. What happened to my quiet little Skylar?”

Skylar’s eyes connected with Ghost’s, remembering what he’d told her about being the tough woman that Shades would need her to be. That she needed to step up. Had she just overstepped? Damn, this MC life was confusing as hell.

“Don’t let Blood get to you, Hotrod. He was an abused child,” Ghost teased with a grin.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Skylar apologized.

“Hey, never water yourself down just because someone can’t handle you at 100 proof, darlin’,” Ghost assured her.

Sandman looked up, blinking his eyes as if he were trying to focus after dozing off. “Blood bein’ an ass again?”

Ghost looked at Sandman and shook his head. “Buy a clue, Brother.”

“What? What’d I miss?”

“Skylar just put Blood in his place.”

“Did she now? Fuck. That calls for a drink. Let’s do a shot.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Ghost, a woman ever put you in your place?” Sandman asked.

“Okay, what response on my part would bring this conversation to a close?” Ghost muttered.

“We’re goin’ to bed,” Shades informed the room, taking Skylar by the hand and heading toward the hallway.

“Thanks, Brother. Leave me here with Mr. Shitfaced.”

“Hey,” Sandman muttered. “I’m not shitfaced. Okay, maybe I am. Actually, I may be more high than drunk.” He slumped back in his chair, eyes closing.

“Crap. Can you even move?” Ghost asked.

Sandman cracked one eye open. “Why, am I in the way?”

Ghost shook his head and moved outside to join Blood on the balcony.

****

Blood stood at the railing, watching the lights flickering in the distance from the oil rigs out in the Gulf. Off to the left was a slow moving shrimp trawler, its riggings illuminated by spot lights high up on the mast. Its towing booms extended out on each side of the boat, the nets trailing below.

He turned at the sound of the sliding glass door. Taking in the look on Ghost’s face, he said, “Yeah, yeah. I’m on your ‘who’s been naughty’ list.”

“Wound up a little tight, are we?”

“Ok, ok, I sounded off a little more than I should have. I’m a little on edge.”

“More like over the edge. The only thing missing was gunfire.”