Shades (Evil Dead MC 3)
He dipped his head and whispered in her ear. “Let your man handle this.”
“But…” She turned her head back to see that Shades and Blood were toe to toe, eye to eye in some kind of standoff. And then both Shades’ fists slammed into Blood’s chest, shoving him back a foot.
“Get her out of here,” she heard Undertaker growl from behind her as he moved back into the bar.
And then a split second before all hell broke loose, Ghost’s arm hooked around Skylar’s ribcage, and he practically lifted her off her feet as he yanked her out of the way, spinning her and walking her toward the entrance, her arms and legs flaying to get free. She could hear a scuffle behind her, chairs scraping and brothers running to break up the fight. When Skylar finally twisted free of Ghost’s hold, she turned to witness a sea of leather cuts shoving the two men apart.
“Stay the fuck away from her!” Shades jabbed a finger toward Blood as two men held him back, and Mooch stood in front of him, shoving him back.
“Calm the fuck down!” Mooch yelled at Shades.
Skylar’s eyes moved to Blood to see him grinning back at Shades with a smirk, and then Ghost was hauling her out the door and out of sight of the fight.
****
Shades glared at Blood. Motherfucker better get out of his sight.
“Blood,” Undertaker shouted. “Sit back down.” He pointed toward the back end of the bar by the hallway to the restrooms. He stood there, eyeing him down until Blood finally shrugged off his brother’s hold and moved to the far end of the bar. Then Undertaker turned back to Shades. He grabbed a fistful of his vest and hauled him close. In a threateningly low voice he growled, “Calm the fuck down.”
Shades’ fist clamped around Undertaker’s thick wrist and wrenched his hold loose. “Get your hands off me.”
Undertaker’s eyes narrowed on him for a moment, and then he backed off. He nodded toward the front of the bar. “We need to talk.”
“Done talking.”
“Humor me. I got something to say to you.”
Shades stalked to the other end of the bar, and Undertaker followed. They sat, and Undertaker waved over the bartender, getting them both another drink. After the bartender served them and withdrew, Undertaker turned to Shades. He was quiet a moment, and then he announced, “I don’t fucking know you. I don’t know what kind of a man you are except for what those colors you wear say about you. So let me be clear. You hurt my girl, I’ll see those colors ripped off your back. You got that?”
“Told you, old man, she’s mine. I take care of what’s mine. No one is going to hurt her. Especially me.”
“When you leave here, I’m trusting you to keep her safe.”
Shades nodded.
“But, just to be sure, I’m sending a couple boys back with you.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”
Shades glared at him.
“Consider it an escort. You don’t have a problem with me puttin’ more men on her, do you?”
Shades took in an aggravated breath, riled at the thought that Undertaker didn’t really trust him to keep her safe. “You think I ain’t up to the task?”
“There are two of you.” He lifted his chin toward Ghost, who was standing outside with Skylar. “You run into a pack of DKs, get into a situation where you’re outnumbered, it won’t matter how tough you are.”
Shades glared at him.
“Son, put yourself in my shoes. I’m her father. I haven’t been there for her, for her whole life. I need to do this.”
Shades clenched his jaw, and then nodded his head once.
Undertaker stalked off to the other end of the bar. Ghost walked back in with Skylar and watched him go. With a grin, he observed sarcastically, “And everything seemed to be going so well.”
Shades turned and slugged him in the chest, and then grabbed Skylar’s hand and stalked back outside, Ghost’s laughter following him.