Hollywood (Oath Keepers MC Hybrid Chapter Book 7) Read online

  “Yeah?”

  He informs me in his customary no-bullshit tone, “Zeus is swinging through. He’s gonna take you to meet up with the Nomads.”

  My brow crinkles, wondering where this is coming from. “A run came in that wasn’t mentioned in church?” I question. We have church every Wednesday, like clockwork, and that’s where business is discussed unless it’s an emergency. He’s caught me off guard, bringing this up right now. It’s unusual to have business that doesn’t get discussed with the brothers together.

  “Nah, I got word from the RBMCs that a shipment’s coming through our territory.”

  Now I’m really fucking confused. There’s no way Ripper would pull this sort of shit without clearing it with the Oath Keepers first. “I just stopped through their club on my last ride. Ripper never mentioned anything to me. Something going on that I don’t know about?”

  He nods. “Ripper called me not too long ago, wanting a patch over. I’m waiting for a sit down with Ares before bringing it to a vote.”

  “No kidding?”

  His head tilts in confirmation. “This isn’t Ripper’s chapter coming through our territory, but another’s. They aren’t only creeping through here but also near his club as well, bringing the heat on them if their patch gets popped so close to home. I guess it’s been going on for a while, and he’s fucking sick of the lack of loyalty, as am I. This is some good-faith intel to use in his favor for when we vote.”

  “Jesus. It must be getting bad if he’s willing to risk the wrath of the other chapters with a patch over. The RBMC hellhounds will be on the hunt if they catch wind of this, I don’t doubt it for a second.”

  “He’s not pleased with a few of the main officers, I guess and is ready for a change. He suspects a war may brew on his brothers if they do patch over, so he’s in limbo while me and Ares talk, then collectively bring it to our tables. Best case scenario, we figure out a plan that works in favor of us all. I’m not keen on bringing blood to our doorstep after the shit with the Iron Fists and the cartel. We take one step toward safety and peace for our families, then another two backward.”

  I shake my head. “Christ. I’m glad I’m an Oath Keeper. And Zeus? He’s done being on his own up north? I haven’t seen the brother in forever... thought he was gonna freeze up there eventually.”

  “Yep. Been years since we all rode with that motherfucker. It’s about time he comes back. If not here, then at least to the Nomads. He was holed up in that cabin, dealing with his demons, but the brother needs to be around family.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. He’s been alone for too long.” I know exactly how that is. It was a rough couple of years for me before I linked up with the Nomads and left my solitude. “So, I’m meeting up with the brothers to do what exactly? Offer another body to help intercept this run or pull damage control?”

  “They’re going to stop the transport, that much I’m fucking certain of. Motherfuckers not hauling through Oath Keeper territory without a vote from our club.”

  I bob my head, agreeing. Any type of push we’ve gotten from other clubs in our territory has been met with a swift hand. We don’t play around when it comes to serious drugs in our territory.

  “I need you to grab Scot’s truck and be ready to load it up with whatever is in the back of that semi coming through. If it’s drugs, I want them all. If it’s other products, I want at least half. The charter pulling this bullshit will feel a serious hit from the interception, one way or another.”

  “I can make that happen,” I reassure, used to us dipping our toes in dangerous waters by now. One thing I learned early on with the Oath Keepers is to always expect the unexpected. The club is so diverse in what they’ll support and who they’ll help out. We often find ourselves in questionable predicaments. “Anybody else coming along for the ride?”

  “You and Night along with Zeus and the other Nomads.”

  “We bringing the stuff back here, or do you have another spot for it?”

  “Drop it off at the farm. Ripper and his boys will be along for the ride.”

  “You’re not worried about them seeing the pig farm?”

  He shakes his head. “Nah, if they do patch over, they’ll know about it eventually. He’s extended a lot of trust our way, so it’s time I do the same. Besides, if they betray us, we’ll kill them and feed them to the pigs out there anyhow. Better they learn that detail about us now.”

  I chuckle, wearing a grin. Viking has always been completely ruthless. I’m glad that over the years, and with an ol’ lady on his arm, it hasn’t caused him to grow soft. “All right, I’ll call you with an update when I have one.”

  He nods as the club door opens, and greetings are yelled from the brothers. “Zeus must finally be here.” He’s missed him, I can see it, even if Prez tends to hide his emotions well. We head for the bar to find the brothers giving man hugs and slapping backs.

  Nightmare wears a wide grin. “Fucker! About time you came home!”

  “Yeah, yeah. Quit yer’ bitchin’!” he booms right back, and a smile brightens my face. Zeus was with Viking and Exterminator when they first found me. He’s an intimidating fucker like the rest of them.

  “Get over here, boy!” He barks at Viking, and rather than hug him, Vike socks him in the stomach. Zeus sputters, then his booming laugh echoes through the clubhouse. “Cocky fucker,” he mutters, standing to his full height. He and Viking lean in, slapping backs and grumbling to each other while they man hug.

  “Good to see you, brother,” I greet as soon as Viking steps aside.

  “Finally looking like a man and not a preppy-ass football star on an expensive bike,” he razzes, making everyone laugh as well as myself. He gave me shit back then, but it worked in pulling me out of the self-destructive shell I’d been spiraling down.

  “And you’re looking more like fucking Sasquatch,” I return, and his face lights up in surprise. He laughs, accepting my welcoming hug.

  “All right, let’s go for a ride and handle some shit. I can’t wait to get back and shoot the shit with you fuckers.”

  Viking chin lifts toward the door with a silent order, and Nightmare, Zeus, and I head out.

  We’re parked along the highway up aways. We are still within eyesight of Ripper and his club getting the semi and the few riders to pull off onto the side of the road. It’s the middle of the week, so the roads aren’t too busy right now. I set my binoculars down, glancing at Nightmare. “You see them?” I ask, and he confirms, keeping his binoculars pinned to his eyes.

  “The plan worked like a fucking charm. They were dumb enough to stop, seeing Ripper and his club in the same cuts. Amateurs. You never stop when you’re on transport. It’d have to be Viking himself to get me to pull the fuck over,” he growls with a shake of his head, and I agree.

  The Nomad’s bikes thunder to life as they take off toward the RBMC members. I grab my binoculars again, gluing them to my face as I eagerly watch what happens. The Nomads rolling up distract the other RBMC riders enough for Ripper, Blow, Angel, Powerhouse, and Plague to overtake them. They yank the group off their bikes and make them kneel on the side of the road. Plague zip ties their hands behind their backs as the Nomads crack open the back of the truck.

  Blow and Powerhouse drag the driver out of the truck, and Plague hurries to zip tie his hands behind his back as well. They leave the driver with the other RBMC bikers. I scan across the group as our phones light up with a text. Nightmare and I dig out our phones.

  “That’s the signal,” he mutters and starts the truck. Gravel flings behind us as he slams down the gas to enter the highway. We turn off on the next exit and loop around to come up behind the group of bikers. It all had to happen on this stretch of highway so the cops would look the other way.

  We quickly pull off on the side of the road again and wait while Powerhouse, Angel, and Zeus toss the three zip-tied men into the back of Scot’s truck. I’m betting Exterminator and Nightmare will have some fun with them when we co
me to a stop. This has dumpster fire written all over it.

  I hop into the semi-truck, my nose curling up in disgust at the smell of rotten food and chew. The cab is a total shithole. No doubt they found the grossest motherfucker to roll over and transport whatever they could get their hands on. I lower the windows to catch the breeze, and my club pulls out in front of me. The RBs follow behind.

  Hitting the next exit, we pull up behind an old, abandoned gas station. It’s been deserted for years and is a spot we’ve used in the past. Placing the semi into park, I shut off the engine. I use a rag covered in grease—at least that’s what I hope is on it—to wipe down everything I touched to get rid of my prints and climb out as they open the back doors again. The truck is stacked up with a decent-size load. We work together to download several of the boxes into the bed of Scot’s truck.

  “Fucking cereal? What kind of shit is this?” Night grumbles, and I chuckle, thinking the same thing.

  Exterminator cocks a brow and fills us in. “It’s what’s inside the cereal that matters.”

  “People are moving product through cereal boxes now? They’ll do anything it seems to transport shit.”

  Spider steps beside me. “That’s not the craziest I’ve seen either. We’ve been coming across bitches with implants.”

  “Fake tits?” I ask to clarify.

  He nods. “Yep, but they’re full of drugs. One of them exploded inside a chick, and she died. Cartel’s been busy bribing doctors to remove the drugs once they’re in the states.”

  “Fuck,” I reply as my mouth drops open in shock.

  Ex turns to Ripper. “This is your intel, you want to do the honors?” He nods toward the three captives as they’re rolling around on the dirt, shit-talking out their asses. “We’ve been ignoring them since they were yanked out of Scot’s truck, and it’s only served to irritate them more.”

  He shakes his head. “Normally, I’d be all about doling out consequences, but until things change, I’m still wearing the same patch.”

  Exterminator huffs. “Figured as much. I’ll do you a solid and handle it, but you owe me.”

  Ripper glares, used to being prez and calling the shots. “Fine,” he grits out eventually.

  “Follow my brothers to the farm, we’ll catch up.”

  “You gonna light up the truck?” I ask the group.

  Spider nods. “Yeah, the chop shop’s only taking luxury vehicles and imports right now. Or anything with a specific chip in it. It’s not worth the risk of dragging this big fucker over there and being turned away.”

  Exterminator rubs his hands together, and I know the brother is already picturing it burning. My brothers are crazy motherfuckers, but I’d never choose another group to have my back. We all have our flaws, some more than others, but our loyalty runs deep. I nod as Nightmare and I do a quick fist bump with the brothers.

  “See you fuckers in a few,” Night grumbles.

  “Ride easy.” I follow his words with my own as we climb back into Scot’s truck that’s now loaded down with a shit-ton of cereal boxes full of narcotics and God knows what else. Nightmare sets his Glock in the cup holder beside him, and I hold mine in my lap. We have to remain vigilant—you never know if someone else is keeping tabs and planning to pull a fast one like we just did.

  The rumble from RBMC’s bikes drown out the truck’s engine as we pull away in a group. They ride at our backs, not knowing where we’re taking them. This is all one big show of trust between the two clubs, and anyone fucking up will end up shot, that much is crystal clear. I should expect nothing less, anything with Viking is chaotic. It’s probably why I fit in with these guys so well.

  “So far, so good,” I mutter, keeping my gaze pinned between the rearview mirror and the bikes on our asses.

  “Ripper’s not stupid enough to fuck this up. He’s a tough motherfucker, but Viking would crush him.”

  “Hmm,” I grunt in agreement.

  Our club has been growing, not only our charter but the others as well. We’re one of the largest clubs in the country at this point, and anyone coming after us risks harsh retaliation. The Iron Fists forced our hand with their past attacks, and it’s turned Viking more savage than he’s ever been in the past with retaliation. The MCs across the nation have all heard of our club’s reputation and the notoriety of our Nomads. We protect our women and children, our brothers, and defend our territory fiercely. Anyone encroaching on either will surely feel the repercussions.

  The Oath Keepers are all about safety and freedom. We keep ours safe and relish in the freedom to make our own choices and do whatever the hell we want. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t want to defend those few sacred club laws.

  Eventually, we make it to the turn-off leading to the pigs. I’ll never forget the first time I was out here—I was still a Nomad back then. I remember the squeal of the hogs and the excitement in their whines as Ares had sawed through enemies’ bodies and tossed the pieces to the animals. They’d snorted and squealed as the fresh, bloody flesh was consumed at an unhealthy pace. I’d puked my guts up, but from what I hear, nearly everyone does their first time. Needless to say, I keep my distance from the fat fuckers. There’s no way I’m losing a leg or some other body part to their appetite for fresh meat. Sinner likes to joke we’ll smoke one of them someday, and it always makes me gag even if he’s only screwing with me.

  Torch, the club’s Death Dealer, is at the massive, weathered barn waiting for us. I hop out to help him open the barn doors and nod a greeting. Nightmare backs the truck inside, and we follow along with the RBMC members. “You know where we’re supposed to stack these boxes?” I ask Torch because I haven’t the faintest idea what Viking wants us to do with it once we’ve arrived. If it were my call, I’d douse it in gasoline and have a bonfire or hand it over to the local sheriff. It’d rid us of the problem quickly.

  Torch flicks his distrustful gaze along the RBMC members, staring them down solemnly until Ripper steps forward to offer him a handshake. The tension eases a bit, and Torch meets my stare. “The cellar.” His chin lifts to the metal door in the middle of the barn floor that’s been padlocked. His presence is ominous. The dude is my brother, but he reminds me of the damn Grim Reaper. Needless to say, I wouldn’t want him hunting me down.

  “Surely, Vike isn’t considering selling this?” We don’t deal in heavy drugs—it’s something we’ve been adamant about since the beginning. Some of the brothers sell a bit of weed and some pills, but that’s it. I have plenty of cash in my account from playing football, so I don’t sell or buy shit. I bring moonshine for the club back from Alabama, but that’s to share with the club. I’ve heard Ripper and his boys deal cocaine and molly, but none of us peddle H, crack, or meth.

  The group begins downloading once Torch opens the cellar. We walk off to the side, and he quietly shares with me, “The Chicago charter is moving it for Joker.”

  “Italian mob is into hard drugs?”

  He shoots me a look, saying, ‘What the fuck do you think?’ “Brother, they’re the mafia. They deal in everything.”

  I nod. “I’ll never understand men’s morals when it comes to this shit. It ruins too many innocent lives.”

  He shrugs. “Everyone has a choice, brother. I’ll face the devil for mine as they’ll have to with theirs.”

  “Isn’t that the fucking truth,” I agree and head for the truck to help. The sooner we get this shit put away, the sooner we get to catch up with Zeus and throw back a cold one.

  “Hey, Ripper,” I call out. “What do you know about that sexy chick you’ve got slinging drinks?”

  “I know she’ll shut your pretty ass down,” he retorts, and the room fills with chuckles.

  We’ll see about that.

  Chapter 3

  “I don’t understand, Cherry. This woman is immune to me or something. I say anything, and she comes back at me tenfold. The women here have always loved me, same as on the road. I’ve never had a woman not want my attention in some way,
whether it was sexual or not. Hell, at this rate, she won’t even be my friend which, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to be friend-zoned.”

  She grins. “The women here know you as a big soft teddy bear too. She doesn’t know that side of you. Even when you were playing football, all those women knew you had money and a squeaky-clean reputation, so they were all over you. If she doesn’t realize who you are or doesn’t care, that could be a good thing. If she really intrigues you, and you like her, then show her who you are. You’re kind, reliable, and sexy. Every woman wants that, even if she says she doesn’t want a biker.”

  “Smartest thing Odin’s done is put his patch on your back,” I compliment, making her beam brightly. She’d been crushing on the brother from the moment she laid eyes on the young biker. Years later, they’re finally living their version of happily ever after.

  “Oh sure, you say that because I’m stroking your ego.”

  My brows raise as Odin comes up behind her, locking his arms around her frame. “Better not be stroking anything that’s not attached to me,” he grumbles, and we chuckle.

  She meets his gaze over his shoulder. “I’m not. I was assuring this big guy that the woman he’s interested in wouldn’t find him lacking once she gets to know him.”

  “I’ve got several innovative ideas on how to warm her up.” I flash a sharp grin, making them laugh.

  “Take it down a notch, Chaos, or you’ll overwhelm her,” Cherry warns. “She’s not a fan or a club whore and probably gets hit on all the time. If she’s caught your eye, she must stand out from the crowd.”

  “Good, overwhelming her senses will suffice for the time being. I don’t want her to be able to think of anything else. Just me.”