JOKER: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 9)

by Nicole James

  “Holly!”

  “I’m kidding.”

  “I don’t think you are.”

  “Jeez. I can’t have any fun anymore. Especially not with him hanging around, watching me all the time.” She jerked her chin toward Joker who was sitting at the bar and currently hitting on the bartender. “Look at him. It’s disgusting. Everywhere we go, he can’t keep it in his pants.”

  “Holly, he’s a guy, and guys flirt with pretty girls.”

  “He’s such a jerk.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were jealous.”

  “As if. He can go bang her out in the alley for all I care.”

  “Don’t be crude.”

  “Too late. I’ve been hanging around Mr. Can’t-keep-it-in-his-pants over there too much. The bad language is rubbing off.”

  “Do you want me to talk to Undertaker about finding someone else—?”

  “No! I mean, they’ll all be the same, won’t they? And besides, at least he stays as far away as possible.”

  Cat smiled. “How are things going at school?”

  “Fine.”

  “Have you met anyone?”

  “Besides my roommates?”

  “Any boys?”

  She shrugged. “A few.”

  “And…? Anyone special.”

  She shrugged again, toying with the straw in her glass.

  “Holly, it’s okay to take it slow if you’re not ready for boys yet, but there’s no harm in having fun, maybe even flirting a little.” When Holly stayed quiet, Cat continued, “I get it if you feel like swearing off men for a while. If you want to take some time and focus on school, that’s great. That’s understandable after… well, after what happened. I just don’t want you to forget to have fun. You’re a pretty girl and you’re young and if you want to partake in a little harmless flirting, that’s normal. But if you’re not ready, that’s fine, too.”

  “I’m fine, really. I wish everyone would stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”

  “We worry because we care, honey.”

  Holly jabbed at the crushed ice in the bottom of her cup. “Okay. Can we change the subject?”

  Chapter Six

  A week later—

  Joker rang the buzzer at Holly’s apartment, his pickup parked at the curb, and a hot cup of takeout coffee in his hand. He shoved his other hand in his hip pocket, hunching his shoulders. Even with the dark blue corduroy shirt he wore over his black Evil Dead t-shirt and a grease-stained white thermal underneath, he still felt the chill in the air.

  Leaning back, he glanced up at the second floor windows. The light in the living room window was on. She’d told him when he’d dropped her off this afternoon that she’d be in for the rest of the night studying.

  He’d brought the coffee by on a whim on his way home from So-Cal’s place, where they’d been working on replacing his frayed clutch cable.

  A shadow appeared in the window above and then the door buzzed, allowing him entry. When he went inside, Miranda stood at the top of the stairs in the open apartment door. Of Holly’s roommates, she was the one he liked best. She may not have Chelsea’s rockin’ body, but she was sweet natured.

  “Hey, girl.”

  “Hi,” she said in a shy voice, then leaned her front against the edge of the doorframe, pressing both her palms to the jam. “She’s not here.”

  That gave him pause as he took the first step. He frowned. “She told me she’d be in studying all night.”

  Miranda bit her lip. “It’s just me. She went up to The Bean Stalk to study.”

  “The Bean Stalk?”

  “It’s a coffee house three blocks down. You can’t miss it.” She pointed to the left.

  He held the to-go cup out to her. “I brought her coffee. You want it?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  He went halfway up the steps and passed it to her. “Hey, Miranda?”

  “Yes?”

  “If I give you my number, would you text me if there’s ever a problem, you know, with Holly?”

  “A problem?”

  “I have a feeling if she ever got herself in a situation, I’d be the last person she’d call for help, and I should be the first.”

  “I suppose.” She grabbed her phone. “What’s your number?”

  He reeled it off for her.

  “Got it.”

  “Thanks, girl. See ya round.”

  “See ya.”

  He exited the building and walked the few blocks down to The Bean Stalk, wondering if Miranda was on her phone warning Holly.

  When he finally entered the Bean Stalk, the place was quaint, with little tables and a girl playing folk guitar in the corner. He scanned the crowd, spotting Holly at a table in the back. She had her head in a textbook and a cup of coffee in front of her.

  She didn’t look up until the chair across from her scrapped across the tile. Her eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”

  He sat, sprawling back in the chair. “Thought you were in for the night. I stopped by to bring you a coffee. You weren’t there.”

  She frowned. “You brought me coffee?”

  “I don’t like being lied to, Hol.”

  “How did you know where I was?”

  “Gave the coffee to Miranda. She told me where you were.”

  Holly dropped her gaze back to her textbook. “Well, you’ve seen me. You can go now.”

  He lifted his chin to her book. “What subject?”

  She pulled up the edge up so he could see the cover.

  He tilted his head and read the spine. “Macro Economics.” He chuckled. “Sounds like a real page-turner.”

  “They’re making it into a movie.”

  He cracked a smile. “Can’t wait.”

  She huffed and gave him a look. “Seriously, why are you here?”

  “Because you lied to me.” The grin faded from his face. “Don’t do it again, babe.”

  “I’m not your babe, and oh my God, I just went out for coffee. I’m not out drinking and getting laid.”

  At the mention of getting laid, he couldn’t help his gaze from dropping to the scooped neck tank she had on under the little pink zip-up hoodie. The tops of her breasts were on display in a way that drew any red-blooded guy’s eyes.

  Of course she saw where his eyes went and yanked the zipper higher. “Do you mind? I have studying to do. You’ve seen I’m okay. You can run along now.”

  His gaze met hers, and he lifted a brow. “Run along now? Did you just say that to me?”

  “Yes. Go. I don’t need you here. I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Darlin’, first off, it’s almost eleven. If you think I’m letting you walk home alone, you’re fucking crazy. Second, you don’t dismiss me like that.”

  “Oh my God.” She slammed her book shut. “I can’t believe you.” She stood, grabbed her purse, and shoved her chair in. Joker grinned as she stormed past, loving that he could rile her up. Then his gaze fell to her ass as she strut off in the pink yoga pants that matched the hoodie she wore. Across that jiggling ass it read, Juicy. The grin faded from his face. It was cheesy as hell, but for some reason it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He stared, for once without anything to say. He knew she was off limits, but his dick hadn’t gotten the message. It bucked as all the blood rushed from his head. Jesus Christ.

  He surged to his feet and followed her out, his eyes never leaving that fine ass as it sashayed through the tables. He caught up with her when they moved through the door and out onto the street.

  “Holly,” he barked.

  “What?” she tossed over her shoulder, not stopping.

  “Babe.” When she still didn’t stop, he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her around. “You want to stay and study, I won’t say a word. I’ll get a coffee and wait to walk you home.”

  Her head pulled back, as if she couldn’t believe he was making the offer. Then she yanked her arm free. “I’m fine. Let’s just go.”

  He fell
in beside her. Half a block down, the chilly air had her hugging her book to her chest.

  “You cold?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Holly, stop.”

  She huffed out a breath. “What? I just want to get home.”

  He shrugged out of his corduroy shirt and slipped it around her. “Put this on.”

  Grudgingly she slid her arms in and murmured, “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He stepped back. “You come here to study often?”

  “This is the first time.” She glared at him. “And apparently the last.”

  “You tell me where you’re goin’, this situation”—he motioned between them— “would work a whole lot better.”

  “How about you let me have some space?”

  He leaned into her face. “How about you tell me where you’re goin’?”

  “I’d like to tell you where to go.” She started walking again.

  He grinned, following after her. “Come on, little brat, you don’t mean that.”

  She kept walking, but threw over her shoulder, “Don’t call me that.”

  He fell in behind her. The view was better back there anyway with that cute jiggling ass he longed to put his hands on.

  As if she read his mind, she stopped and whirled on him. “Are you watching my ass?”

  “What if I am?” If she thought he’d deny it or apologize, she had another thing coming.

  “Stop it!”

  “Make me.”

  “I hate you.” She started walking again.

  “You know how this could all be avoided, Holly?”

  “You drop dead?”

  “Ha ha. No, you tell me where you’re goin’, so I don’t have to come lookin’ for you.”

  She flipped him off.

  “Now, see. You’re actin’ like a little brat again. How am I ever gonna stop callin’ you that nickname when you live up to it every day?”

  “Bite me.”

  His eyes automatically dropped, and he thought about sinking his teeth into one of those luscious cheeks.

  “You know, whoever invented yoga pants—I’d like to thank them. I have to say they do wonders for the female booty.”

  “You’re a pig, Joker.”

  His laughter followed her down the street.

  Chapter Seven

  Joker sat on an overturned five-gallon pail, helping So-Cal work on his bike. The Harley was up on a lift, and they were both bent to it.

  He glared up at So-Cal. “The damn spark plug’s cross-threaded, you moron.”

  “No way. I put those in myself.”

  “Well, you fucked ‘em up, dude.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Joker’s phone rang, and he dug in his hip pocket for it. Pulling it free, he glanced at the number and frowned, not recognizing it. He put it to his ear. “Yeah?”

  “Um, hi.” A shy feminine voice came on the line. “You said I should call if Holly was going to do something stupid.”

  Joker straightened to his feet, the plastic bucket sliding across the concrete. “Miranda?”

  “Um, yeah.” Her voice was almost a whisper, like she didn’t want someone to overhear.

  “What’s goin’ on?”

  She started talking a mile a minute. “Chelsea talked her into going to this fraternity party. It’s a pajama party theme and the outfits they’re wearing…oh, boy. I just think she’s going to get herself in over her head. I didn’t want to go, and I tried to talk Holly out of it, but, well, Chelsea can be overbearing. I don’t think Holly actually wants to go, but she’s acting all, like, whatever, you know? Like brazening it through to be cool or something. I’ve never been to one, but I’ve heard frat parties can get really wild and there’s a lot of booze and sex and—”

  “Whoa, whoa, slow down, babe. Did they leave yet?”

  “No, but they’re about to.”

  Joker was already heading to his bike as he snapped, “I’m on my way. I need you to stall ‘em ‘til I get there. Can you do that, honey?”

  “How? They’re almost ready.”

  “I don’t know. Think of something. Pretend you twisted your ankle or something. Make ‘em get you an ice pack… whatever. Just keep ‘em there for about fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay. I’ll try, but hurry.”

  Joker shoved his phone in his pocket, throwing his leg over his bike and lifting it off its kickstand.

  “Where the fuck you goin’, man?” So-Cal hollered.

  “Gotta go babysit.”

  So-Cal rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air when Joker’s Harley thundered to life and he roared away.

  The big bike ate up the back roads as Joker raced across town, thinking all the while of how he was going to ring her stupid neck. A fucking pajama party? At a frat house? Had she lost her goddamn mind?

  Twelve minutes later, he turned in at the end of her street and coasted down the block so she wouldn’t hear the bike rumble up. He parked in front of the small apartment building that held only four apartments, two upstairs and two downstairs. He was almost to the front door when it opened and out came the two giggling girls.

  He folded his arms, and they almost plowed into him.

  “You!” Chelsea said with distain.

  “Oh, shit,” Holly muttered.

  “Goin’ somewhere, ladies?”

  “We are, actually,” Chelsea told him, lifting her chin. “Do you mind getting out of our way?”

  “Yeah, I mind.” His eyes skated down them. They were both wearing trench coats with nothing showing but bare legs and heels. If they were going to a pajama party, he could only imagine what they had on underneath.

  “Where you headed?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re going to the library to study,” Chelsea told him. “Come on, Holly.”

  Holly stood frozen, her gaze shifting between Chelsea who was even now heading for her car, and his face.

  “See ya,” she whispered and tried to move past him, but his hand wrapped around her upper arm, stopping her short.

  “Na-uh, girl. Upstairs. We need to have a chat.”

  “Can’t it wait? I’m late.”

  “For the library?” His brow arched at the lie.

  “Yes, well, it’s going to close soon.”

  His gaze moved over her legs. “And you dressed up in high-heels to study? Right.”

  Her chin came up. “So I like to look nice when I leave the house. What of it?”

  “Holly, are you coming or not?” Chelsea called as she stood in the open driver’s door.

  Joker twisted his head. “She’s not. Run along without her, little girl.”

  Chelsea jumped in her car, slammed the door, and sped off. Glad to see her go, Joker turned back to Holly.

  She slapped her hand on her hip. “Thanks. Now she left me. Satisfied?”

  “Not even close. Come on.” He yanked open the apartment door and pulled her after him. As they tromped up the stairs, she harped at him.

  “You’re the biggest pain in the ass, you know that?”

  “I’m the pain in the ass? I’ve got to haul across town every damn day to keep your fucking shenanigans in check, but I’m the pain in the ass?”

  “Oh, shove it.” She opened her door, went in, and tried to shut it in his face, but he was too fast for her. He got his boot in the door and with barely a push had her stumbling back as he came in.

  “Asshole! Get out. This is my place, and I don’t want you here.”

  Over her shoulder, Joker saw Miranda make a quick exit down the hallway and into a bedroom, giving them privacy in the living room.

  “Shut the hell up. You’re caught, babe. I caught you. You weren’t going to the library. So, give it up. Tell me the truth.”

  “Why do you think I’m lying? Maybe I already told you the truth.” She couldn’t even hold his eyes as that load of crap came out of her mouth.

  He folded his arms and gave her a look.

 
“What?”

  He lifted his brows. “Okay, fine. I’m callin’ your bluff. Take off your coat.”

  She swallowed, pulling tighter on the tied belt at her waist. “I’m cold.” Then she tried to turn away. “I’m going to bed.”

  He grabbed her again, stopping her. “Nope. Not until I see what’s under that coat.”

  She whirled back at him. “It’s just a damn dress. Why do you care?”

  “Take off the coat, Holly. Now.”

  She stared him down a long moment, and then gaining her backbone, she straightened and arched a brow at him as she undid the knot with jerking motions.

  His eyes focused on her hands. The belt came free, the lapels parted and he forgot how to breath as the trench slid off her shoulders to pool on the floor.

  “Satisfied?” she bit out.

  His eyes swept over her. Skin—and a shit-ton of it—was exposed to his gaze. She wore some type of lace corset-thing that served her tits up on a platter. He was sure the garment was one she’d held up that day at the mall. If he recalled, the set came with a strappy little barely-there thong. She wore a pair of silk pajama shorts, but he’d bet his damn bike that thong was underneath.

  Sweet Jesus.

  The girl was sex on a stick in that outfit; the heels added the total “playmate” look to the package. And she was going to parade around in this outfit at a frat house full of alcohol-fueled, sex-driven boys? Had she lost her friggin’ mind? She’d only be asking for it, and they wouldn’t hesitate to take her up on the offer. His eyes swept over her again. She’d be easy pickings for any guy who didn’t want to take no for an answer.

  “Have your fill yet?” she snapped. “Are we done here?”

  “Not hardly. Sit down.” He pointed to the couch. She sat, and he yanked an afghan off the adjacent armchair and tossed it to her. “Cover up.”

  She was all too happy to do as he ordered, wrapping it around herself.

  He sat in the chair, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. It brought him closer to her, but it also covered his hard-on, thank fuck. He drew in a breath and tried to hold his shit together. “Tell me the truth about where you were going dressed like that, Holly.”

  “A party, okay?”

  “A party. In lingerie?”