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Butcher hollered out, “Ghost, get in here!”
The door opened immediately, as if Ghost had been waiting right outside the door. Waiting to be called in here. What the fuck was going on?
“You get it?” Butcher snapped.
Shades watched Ghost’s eyes flick to him, and then he was reaching inside his vest. He pulled out a small rectangular paper and slid it across the desk to Butcher. Then he looked up at Shades and said, “Sorry, Brother. Boss’s orders.”
Shades eyes dropped to the paper. It was a photo strip. Butcher snatched it up and then held it out, facing Shades.
“She look familiar?” he asked cryptically.
Shades eyes moved from Butcher to Ghost, and then finally to the photo strip. He reached out and took it from Butcher’s hand and examined it. Fuck. This chick was a dead ringer for Skylar.
“What the hell? Where did you get this?” His question was for Ghost, his eyes boring into him.
“Skylar’s purse.”
“You took it out of her purse?”
“I told him to,” Butcher barked.
“What the fuck for?”
“Slick saw that yesterday. She dropped her purse on the floor, and it fell out. She says that’s her mother.”
Shades looked back down at the photo, and then back at Butcher. “Okay. That’s her mother. What of it?”
“It’s the man in the photo that’s important,” Butcher clarified.
“Yeah, what about him?”
“Take a closer look. See his ring?”
Shades studied the series of photos again until he found the only shot that showed the ring. And then his stomach dropped—a fucking Evil Dead ring. His eyes snapped up to Butcher. “Who is he?”
“I’m thinking that’s Skylar’s father.”
“Who the fuck is he?”
“Undertaker,” Butcher paused, and then he dropped the bomb. “The New Orleans Chapter President.”
Shades slumped back in his chair, his eyes sliding closed as the implications of what this all meant washed over him. Christ, could this girl get any more complicated? Could this situation get any more fucked?
“I made a call down there yesterday and had a chat with him.”
Shades eyes came open. Butcher had his full attention now. “What did he say? He claim her? Where the hell has he been all these years? Fuck, he just abandoned her to the system when she was barely three years old. Do you know what hell her life has been because of it?”
“Whoa. Pull the reins in, Son. You don’t know the whole fuckin’ story.”
“Do you?”
“I know some of it. I know what Undertaker told me.”
“And what the fuck was that?”
Butcher pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle and a short tumbler. Then he poured out a double shot of Jack and slid it across the desk toward Shades. “Knock it back, and we’ll talk.”
Shades reached out and slammed the shot down.
