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“Pretty sure it’s true, boss,” Boot gave Slick his backing.
“Where the hell did you get that idea? She tell you that?” And then without giving a moment’s pause to let Slick give an answer, Butcher’s gaze immediately swung to Ghost who was looking up from his chair, stunned. “You know about this shit? You and Shades know about this shit when you not ten minutes ago traipsed in here and dumped that nightmare in my lap about her and the DKs?”
“Fuck, no,” Ghost insisted loudly. “Undertaker? The New Orleans fucking Chapter President? That Undertaker?”
“Yup,” Slick replied.
Butcher’s eyes swung back to Slick. “What the fuck are you talking about? How the hell did you come up with this bullshit?”
“It ain’t bullshit, Butcher,” Boot defended.
“She dropped her purse,” Slick explained. “Shit went everywhere. One of those little photo strips fell out. I picked it up and looked at it. The girl in the shot was Skylar’s mother, back when she was maybe her age. The guy in the picture is Undertaker. Twenty-five years ago, maybe. But it’s him. He looked familiar. At first I couldn’t place him. Then I saw the ring on his hand. It was an Evil Dead ring. Then I knew where I’d seen him. Knew who he was.”
“She tell you that was her dad?”
“No. Said that was the only picture she had of her mom. Wasn’t sure who the guy was. Thought it might be her dad, but she didn’t know.”
Butcher shook his head. “Skylar was in foster care. Why would she be in fuckin’ foster care if—” And then he paused as if putting it all together.
“Exactly,” Slick cut in. “That was back when Undertaker was in prison.”
“Fuck. That’s right. Undertaker did time. I heard he got sent up to Angola. Did eleven years.” Butcher ran a hand down his face.
Slick looked Butcher in the eyes. “I heard there was a kid. I also heard when he got out, he lost his shit when he couldn’t find this chick or his kid.”
“You think Skylar’s that kid?” Ghost asked Butcher.
Butcher’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. But I aim to find out.”
Ghost stood. “I’ll go get Shades.”
Butcher looked up at him with menace. “You don’t say shit to him about this. Not until I make a call. You hear me?”
Ghost stared at him a moment, before nodding slowly. “Yeah. I hear you.”
“Christ, this is true, there goes any option of turning her over,” Butcher grumbled.
“That wasn’t ever an option, was it, Butcher?” Ghost asked, knowing the answer. “She was pretty
upset. Scared to death, actually. Shades isn’t gonna turn his back on her.”
Butcher ran a frustrated hand down his face. “Nothing he can do about it now but hole up for the night and get her calmed down.” Then his eyes connected with Ghost. “Go tell him to get her out of here and lay low tonight. Until we figure this shit all out. Then you come back here.”
Ghost nodded and left.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Skylar was on the back of Shades’ bike.
They’d left the clubhouse and were headed south of town. At first she thought he was taking her back to her place, but he didn’t get off the interstate at that exit. Then she thought he must be taking her to his shop, but he didn’t take that exit either.
He’d been terse with her when he’d pulled her out to his bike, threw his leg over it and told her to ‘climb the fuck on’. She knew he was angry with her, and he had a right to be. She’d really dropped a bomb on him today.
Still, she couldn’t help worrying her lip, wondering where he was taking her as they rode on for another fifteen minutes past the exit for his shop.
Finally, he exited the interstate. Skylar frowned when they passed the signage indicating this was one of the exits for Lay Lake.
She’d been out here a time or two with Letty during high school. God. That seemed like a million years ago now.
