SHADES: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series Book 3) by Nicole James Page A

give him the time of day,” Shades replied.
    “Yeah, but we both know a tiger don’t change his stripes. He didn’t get that name for nothin’.”
    The corner of Shades’ mouth pulled at Ghost’s remark. “He’s never getting’ in her pants, so he’d might as well hang that shit up.”
    “That ain’t no lie.”
    Griz walked up and confiscated the joint out of Shades hands. Taking a long toke, he asked, “What are we talking about, boys?”
    “When’s the damn shrimp boil gonna be ready?” Ghost asked.
    “Hell if I know,” Griz replied, glancing over toward where a tall bald man stood over the big boiling pot. “Gator’s in a mood today. I ain’t askin’ him.”
    “Gator’s always in a mood.” Ghost took the joint back from Griz.
    “Yeah, but the man sure can cook.” Griz looped an arm around the neck of one of the girls as she walked past and pulled her to him. “How’s it shakin’ Sherry-berry?”
    Her strawberry blonde hair made her the perfect target for a million different nicknames which seemed to rotate daily. She was about five foot three and stacked. She put a hand on her hip and gave a little shimmy. “You tell me, big guy.”
    “Heard you got a story to tell,” he teased with a knowing grin.
    She rolled her eyes. “You heard about last night?”
    “I heard you went into thermo-nuclear meltdown with some guy.” Griz waggled his brows at her.
    “It wasn’t just some guy.” Both hands landed on her hips.
    “It wasn’t two guys was it?” Ghost teased.
    “In my dreams.”
    Griz grinned in response. “Hey, doll, go ask Gator if the shrimp are ready.”
    Sherry made a face that said, no way in hell. “I’m not asking him. He’ll bite my head off.”
    “Come on, Strawberry Shortcake, take one for the team,” Ghost put in with a wink.
    She rolled her eyes and moved off toward Gator. Over her shoulder she said, “You’re all chicken-shits.”
    The men laughed.
    Shades eyes were drawn to the back gate as a single bike rode in.
    Crash.
    With Skylar ridin’ bitch.
    Well, goddamn, he actually brought her.
    Ghost must have noticed as well, because he leaned closer. His eyes on the bike, he asked, “You ever gonna tell that tale, Brother?”
    “Nothin’ to tell. It’s over. Ancient history now.”
    Ghost let out a huff. “Bullshit.”
    Shades turned his eyes on Ghost, his look deadly. “Drop it.”
    Ghost grinned, but let it lay.
    Shades’ eyes returned to where Crash and Skylar were climbing off the bike. He took a drink from his beer, his eyes following the pair as they walked up to the blue canopy tent set up over near the shrimp boil. There were several tables and chairs under it, and that’s where Butcher, Slick and Boot were sitting. Crash clasped their hands and sat down, pulling Skylar down to the chair next to his. Shades could see Crash reach over and take her hand in his, their clasped hands resting on her thigh. He couldn’t stop the images of Crash running his hands over Skylar’s body, and the thought had his jaw clenching.
    Butcher snapped his fingers at one of the girls over by the food tables, and a moment later she brought over two cold beers, handing one to Crash and one to Skylar.
    Shades took a sip of his beer and continued to keep an eye on them.
    One of the new hang-around girls wandered by, giving him a look that read like an open invitation. She was young and blonde. His eyes ran down her body. He’d become a man always in the market for fresh pussy, and he’d been driving himself crazy the past few nights, lying awake with thoughts of Skylar filling his goddamned head. At the reminder of her, his razor sharp gaze zeroed in on her across the compound, only to find her sitting in Crash’s fucking lap now.
    Goddamn that gutted him.
    His attention turned back to the girl, and he lifted his chin at her. “Come here, darlin’.” When she strutted over, he took a hit off his cigarette, blew the smoke out slowly and asked, “What’s your