Oath Keepers MC: The Collection Read online

  By: International Bestselling Author

  SAPPHIRE KNIGHT

  Oath Keepers MC

  Copyright © 2017 by Sapphire Knight

  Cover Design by CT Cover Creations

  Editing by Mitzi Carroll

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  WARNING

  This novel includes graphic language and adult situations. It may be offensive to some readers and includes situations that may be hotspots for certain individuals. This book is intended for ages 18 and older due to some steamy spots. This work is fictional. The story is meant to entertain the reader and may not always be completely accurate. Any reproduction of these works without Author Sapphire Knight’s written consent is pirating and will be punished to the fullest extent of the law.

  Table of Contents

  Exposed

  Relinquish

  Forsaken Control

  Friction

  Love and Obey

  Sweet Surrender

  Common terms in this novel-

  MC - Motorcycle Club

  Prez - President

  VP - Vice President

  SAA - Sgt. at Arms

  Ol’ Lady - Significant Other

  Chapel - Place Where Church is Held

  Clubhouse/ Compound – MC home base

  Church - MC ‘Meeting’

  Original Oath Keepers MC:

  Prez – President

  Ares – Enforcer, SAA

  Cain – Club Brawler

  2 Piece – Gun Runner

  Twist – Unholy One, Clean up

  Spin – Treasurer

  Snake – Prospect

  Smiles – Road Captain

  Shooter – Prospect

  Scratch – Prospect

  Dedicated to-

  MY SONS

  Jr- For thinking I’m some famous Author. When in reality, I’m just another little fish swimming in a great big ocean.

  Jay- For always getting Momma her laptop and another soda. You have no idea just how important your job really is.

  Chapter 1

  Cain

  Six Months Ago…

  Fuck, I’m hungover. I have to quit doing this shit to myself. Having a shower helped a little, but a shot of Jack and some aspirin should make the fucking pounding chill out.

  I make my way out of my room and down the hall to the bar area. Glancing around, I take in the bar of the clubhouse.

  Man, this place is trashed.

  There are empty beer bottles and full ashtrays covering every surface. The shiny bar is the only clean piece of furniture in the room. It calls to me like a beacon. Trekking toward it, I kick trash and what looks like a few pairs of panties out of the way.

  “Yo, Cain, you beat that pussy up last night, man?”

  Glancing over, I notice 2 Piece sitting in a booth back in the corner of the room. “Damn, man, I didn’t see you. Yeah, I hit that shit then sent her ass packin’. Why? You hit it after me?”

  I grab a glass and a lemon from the bar and make my way over to him. He’s already got a bottle of Jack in front of him. Guess he had the same idea.

  “Fuck, no, man. I had that crazy redhead stripper grindin’ on my shit all night. Not bad pussy either,” he mutters and takes a big gulp of Jack.

  Taking a seat across from him, I pour myself a double—just enough to chase this shit out of my head but not enough to make me want to puke.

  “You chasing the beast, too, brother? My fuckin’ head is killin’ me today.” I drink and then suck on my lemon.

  “Yep. You’re a nasty fucker, eating that shit after a nice sip of whiskey.” He cringes at my lemon with distaste, and I chuckle.

  They never believe me when I tell them that lemon has Vitamin C and helps you bounce back quicker. They all give me shit for it, but whatever. I’m always feeling better quicker than they do in the end.

  I finish my whiskey and stand up, stretching my muscles out. Shit. I’m sore all over.

  “I’m out, man; I’ll be back later.” I salute at 2 Piece and head for the door.

  “Later, brother. Don’t forget you have a fight tonight,” he calls after me.

  Fuck. I did forget.

  “Yeah, I’ll be ready,” I holler and roll my eyes.

  Geez, I have to wake up some more.

  “You better be, fucker. If I lose my money betting on your ass, I’m gonna kick it after you’re done.”

  “Ha, your ass should be paying me for winning you that motherfucking money!”

  2 Piece is cool as fuck. He’s one of the first brothers I got close to when I started to come around the club. Opening the door, the heat hits me hard. It’s worse on days like today when I feel like dog shit.

  Hotter than a nice piece of ass today, I think and make my way toward my girl.

  “Hey, pretty girl, you all ready to go for a ride?”

  The guys give me shit for talking to my bike, but I’ve heard a few of them talk to theirs, too. They just like giving me shit since I’m one of the youngest in the club. I’ve fought my ass off this year for my bike. She’s a 2014 Harley Davidson Custom Iron 883 with Hard Candy custom black paint and all black trim. My girl isn’t really made for long rides, but I can always use my old bike if I need to.

  I take my small shammy towel out and lightly dust her off, then climb on and kick my kickstand back and start her up. The rumble vibrates through my muscles, and it’s a feeling of comfort like a nice home-cooked meal.

  Yeah, like I’ve actually had one of those recently. Speaking of food…

  I need to get my ass to H.E.B. before all the church freaks show up. Glancing down at my watch, I check the time. 11:30. I may just make it before they swarm the damn grocery store.

  ****

  I pull into the H.E.B. parking lot and, thankfully, they don’t appear busy yet. Sundays after twelve p.m. and everyone seems to leave church to come straight here. It’s like some weird ritual or something.

  Then I have to deal with their judging eyes. The holier-than-thou seem to think I’m a menace because of my tattoo-covered arms, hands, and neck. I always wear clean clothes, but it doesn’t matter when I have my Oath Keepers MC cut on. I’m automatically a hellion.

  I may be a brawler, in a motorcycle club, enjoy partying, and ride a bike, but I’ve known plenty of people that are worse than myself.

  If any of you fucks had half a clue what bad really is, I’d look like a fuckin’ saint.

  The air-conditioning hits me as I enter, and it’s like a drink of cool, refreshing water.

  Christ, it’s a hot Texas day today.

  I’m thinking that run up north right now might be a decent idea after all. I only go on the longer runs when they need my strength. I usually help the Club Enforcer, Ares, with his duties. It’s relaxing to weed out the fucks that need to be persuaded, found, killed, et cetera.

  I never once stated that I’m a good guy, just that I’ve met worse.

  I fucking hate shopping—does anyone actually enjoy this shit? This is why th
e brothers have their regular fucks go to the store for them. I’m too picky for that though.

  I like what I like and don’t need some piece of ass getting whatever she feels like. Men’s body wash—Old Spice Sport, Toothpaste—Aquafresh, Mouthwash—Colgate spearmint, and Garnier hair goop for my faux hawk. Bitches don’t know that shit, and I don’t want any of them to figure it out, either.

  I better pick up some grub and Gatorade while I’m here, too. Granola bars, Nutri-Grain bars, Honey Buns, red Gatorade, and some chicken strips for my lunch—check. I make my way up toward the cashiers.

  I’m passing by the orange juice when I see the sexiest ass I think I’ve ever seen on a woman. I start to check out the rest of the package. Bitch is straight up bangin’ with long, straight, jet-black hair down her back. She’s got tattoos all over and an hourglass figure.

  Baby has some thighs I could seriously imagine wrapped around my face. She’s got the curves you grab onto from behind while you slam into her. She’s tall but still short compared to my own six foot one.

  Please have a good face, please have a good face, please.

  “Hey, sweet cakes, want me to get that juice for you?”

  She’s reaching for the top shelf, but the juice is pushed back too far for her. She turns to face me, and I’m hit with some icy cool-blue irises surrounded by almond-shaped eyes and long, dark lashes.

  I swear my dick convulses with need when I finally get to see her face, even if she is scowling. Her expression quickly changes to surprise. There’s only one person I’ve seen with those eyes before.

  I blink and she comes into focus. Holy fuck, she’s all grown up. London Layla Traverson, my high school crush.

  Boy, she was a sweet one when we were in school. I still remember the only time I ever got to hold her close. Her best friend’s mom had just died, and London was a mess, too. I was so happy I got to have her in my arms, but I don’t know if she even realized it was me that day.

  Those beautiful blue eyes blink up at me a few times, and I smirk. You aren’t the only one who’s changed.

  “Hey, hot stuff, that’d be great,” she grins, replying sassily and then winks at me.

  Oh, sweet cakes, you have no clue what you just did. I’m going to get a taste of you this time around.

  I lean in, resting one hand on her hip as I reach past her and grab the juice. I flex my fingers just a touch and am rewarded when I hear her suck in her breath.

  That’s right, baby.

  Pulling back, I hand over the juice and give her my panty-dropper grin.

  It works every time.

  “Well, thank you. What a true gentleman.” She hits me back with a little smirk, and I want to lick the dimple popping out to play.

  “Baby, there ain’t nothing gentle about me. That I can promise you right now.” I reach out and tuck a piece of her silky, dark locks behind her ear.

  She chuckles a little and shakes her head like I just told her something cute. “See ya around, baby.” She says “baby” sarcastically and starts to walk off.

  Grrrr. I’m so going to smack that ass when I get her on all fours.

  “Wait a sec; you left without asking for my number.”

  She glances back and rolls her eyes at me. “Why would I give you my number if you call me ‘baby’? Real original. Clearly, I’m not like every other ‘baby’ out there. I’m colorful, so at least try a little harder next time.” She takes off toward the front to a cash register.

  Well fuck. Apparently, she’s grown into a ball buster, too. That’s too bad; she used to be so sweet in school. Then again, the last time I saw her I was in seventh grade. It’s been what, like ten years?

  She was a year younger than me, but I used to go to her math class and help some of the students with their assignments and questions they had. She would always smile real sweet and ask me to help her.

  I thought she might have had a little crush on me, but I was shy back then. I ended up moving away. Well, my dad went to jail, so I didn’t have a place to live anymore. I guess you call that “moving.”

  I check out and head to the bike. I guess I had less shit than London because she comes walking out as I’m stuffing my purchases in my big backpack. She’s parked one row over, and there aren’t many people here yet, so the lot’s pretty empty.

  “Hey, Layla!” I holler at her, and she looks around the parking lot before her eyes come to rest on mine. She stares at me, puzzled, probably wondering how on earth I know her middle name.

  “The only other thing I’ve ever called ‘baby’ is my bike. So take it as a huge compliment, sugar tits.”

  I start my bike and rev the engine. She says something, but I can’t hear her over my pipes. I give her a two-finger salute and ride out of the parking lot.

  I keep checking my mirrors, and London is right behind me. Not too close or anything, but enough so I can tell it’s her. She can’t live this far out here unless she lives out of town and I caught her on a random stop. The compound is on the outskirts of Georgetown Texas about twenty minutes to the east.

  Maybe she’s in school up at College Station? That would make sense.

  Taking my turn-off toward the compound, I say a silent goodbye. Bye, baby, glad I got to see you grown and beautiful.

  I give the sign to the prospect at the gate. Shit, what’s his name again? I’m supposed to pay attention if he’s doing okay so I can eventually vote him in.

  Ah fuck it, I’ll ask Ares later. He’s the Enforcer and knows everything there is about everybody.

  I park and shut off my bike. As I’m climbing off, a car pulls up next to me. Glancing up, my heart skips a beat when I see her again.

  Shit, he let London through the gate?

  She climbs out of her little silver Honda Civic. “Hey!”

  “Yeah, what’s up?” Maybe she decided to give me her number after all.

  She rounds the front of her car and comes to stand in front of me. “Why did you call me Layla?” She has her forehead scrunched up, and she looks absolutely adorable, curious.

  “It’s your name, right?” I ask her seriously. I know it used to drive her crazy when people would call her Layla because someone would always end up singing the song with it.

  “Yo, Cain! You just coming back from town?” I glance over, and Ares is coming toward me. He’s a big motherfucker; I’m talking six foot six inches and built like a brick house.

  “Yeah, man, just hit up H.E.B., why?” I check him over; he doesn’t seem to be pissed about anything. Yet I’m one of the few he actually allows to see him get upset. He likes to blank out on anyone else if something bothers him.

  “Nothin’, bro, just needed some smokes. I’ll ride in, get some gas, too.” He gives me a chin lift and sits on his bike.

  “I thought you quit, man? Your ass is gonna’ get cancer with all the road fumes.”

  Yes, I am conscious about health. I may not make great decisions, but I do try to take care of myself when I’m not partying. The only time I touch any drugs is before I brawl. Hence my name—Cain. I like a little cocaine before my fight; it helps get me hyped up and ready to rip a fucker apart.

  “When did you grow a pussy? I left my momma a long time ago, but if you want to do some dishes, go on in and let Candy know. She’ll be happy to let you help her clean up.”

  “Fuck you, man. We both know my dick’s bigger than yours. Don’t say I didn’t warn your ass, when you’re hacking up like an old fucker.”

  He chuckles and flips me off at the dick comment. We’ve both fucked bitches out in the bar, so he knows my dick is bigger. I turn back to London.

  Shit. I got sidetracked.

  “So, your name’s Cain?”

  “Yep, sure is, sweet cheeks. Why’d you follow me? You know you’re in the lion’s den coming onto the compound like this.”

  She gives me a little smile and shrugs. “It’s okay, darlin’, I’m not scared of cats.”

  Oh, man, this chick is pretty fuckin’ perfect. I
can’t help it, I burst out laughing. She’s in the middle of a biker compound, and she’s calling us a bunch of cats. If she only knew.

  The prospect glances at me, and I give him a chin-lift so he knows she’s okay. It doesn’t matter, though. The douche shouldn’t have let her through the gate in the first place.

  “So, how did you know my name?” She smirks at me but seems a bit more curious now.

  I’ve got her interested. I bet Layla was the last thing she expected to come out of my mouth.

  “We went to school together, but I’m guessing you don’t remember me?”

  “Trust me, Cain, I would remember you if we went to school together. I’m pretty sure I would have ridden on the back of your bike a few times if you had.” She gives me a cocky grin.

  Yeah, I bet you were the cat’s fuckin’ meow to all those boys who had no clue how to handle someone like you.

  “Ah, no. When I was in school, I didn’t have my bikes or my car. I think the last time I saw those gorgeous blue eyes, I was in seventh grade. You were always a cute little thing, too, but I must say I’m really appreciating this grown-up version of you a lot more.”

  She tilts her head to the sky for a moment, thinking it over.

  “I know a few boys who moved around that time, but I never knew a Cain. Did I ever talk to you?”

  “Yeah, actually, you used to ask me to help you with your math. I don’t know why, though. You were really smart; it was almost like you were just fuckin’ with me.”

  Her eyes light up and she slowly looks me over from head to toe.

  “I can take my clothes off if you want to get a better look?”

  “Were you this cocky back then, because I’d definitely remember you. The boy that I remember moved, and his name was not Cain.”

  “I know, sweet cheeks. My name is Brandon Meeks. I go by Cain now.” Her eyes grow wide and she stares me over from head to toe. Just to be a bastard, I reach back and start to pull the back of my shirt off at the nape of my neck.

  “Ah, whoa, what are you doing?” she stammers, surprised.