Shades (Evil Dead MC 3)

Shades gave him a tired thumbs up.

“How the hell did she get here?” Blood asked, knowing they’d all ridden back, and Sandman hadn’t had any blonde ridin’ bitch last night.

“Apparently she followed us back in her car. It’s stuck in the sand out there,” Shades informed the group.

Ghost peered out the window over the kitchen sink with its view of the drive. “Son-of-a-bitch. She’s sunk up to the wheel wells. We’ll have to push her out.”

“I ain’t pushin’ shit,” Blood growled. “He tapped her, let him cart his ass out there and push her out.”

A moment later, Sandman stumbled out of the bedroom scratching his chest. “Did I hear my name?”

“Take a look out the window, bro,” Blood advised.

“Yeah, you’re date’s car is stuck.”

“Christ it’s bright as fuck in here,” Sandman grumbled.

“That’s called daylight, Brother,” Ghost put in.

Sandman’s squinting eyes searched around for his black, wraparound sunglasses. He grabbed them up off the bar, slid them on and then moved to the window. He groaned when he saw the car sunk in the sand.

“Kill me now.”

“Oh, oh, I’ll do it.” Ghost had his hand in the air.

Shades and Blood burst out laughing.

Sandman collapsed into a chair at the dining table, joining the rest of them.

“My head hurts.”

“Everybody’s head hurts. Get over it,” Blood barked and threw the bottle of aspirin at him.

“Why does my face hurt?” Sandman tenderly touched his cheek below the dark sunglasses.

“Because you let some douchebag Death Head blindside you, dumbass.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. We beat the crap out of ‘em, though, didn’t we?”

“Yup.”

He suddenly turned to Blood. “Was I cuffed to a pole with you or did I just dream that?”

“You dreamt that,” Blood replied with no hesitation.

The rest of them snickered.

Shades looked over at Blood. “Thanks for the help last night.”

“A chance to pound some Death Head faces to a pulp? Wouldn’t have missed it.”

Shades grinned.

Out of the blue, Sandman, who was now fingering a ceramic pumpkin that sat as part of the silk-floral centerpiece, mumbled, “We don’t carve pumpkins at my house…I don’t trust my children with knives. They may turn on me.”

Shades almost snorted his coffee out his nose.

Turning to Blood, Skylar frowned and whispered, “Is he on drugs?”