Heathen: Oath Keepers MC

by Sapphire Knight

  The woman’s exactly as I was expecting. Her hair’s up, twisted in some sort of fancy wrap style. It reminds me of when rich bitches get dressed up for dinner in movies or whatever. Her back’s held ramrod straight, with a small ass encased in an expensive pants suit. She turns around, offering me a glimpse of that perfectly straight nose Torch had previously commented on, and I draw in a stunned breath.

  She’s so goddamn beautiful, it makes my chest ache. It’s kind of like biting into a freshly baked, flaky, golden-crusted cherry pie, only to discover it has far too much sugar. Cherry pie is supposed to be a bit sweet but also have a hint of tartness. This bitch is a full-on toothache just waiting to happen. I can already tell she’s going to be a bittersweet mistake of mine in some type of way.

  My steps falter, as my confidence is unexpectedly a bit shaken. I was expecting her to be a plain Jane run-of-the-mill woman. I knew she’d have the legendary stick up her ass, but after witnessing her beauty, well, it puts this on an entirely different level. I’d planned to swoop in and spread a touch of the Blaze charm onto her unsuspecting ass. But, now I know that won’t work. I’m sure she’s been hit on since she was sixteen years old if I had to guess.

  If I go in there with flowers and flirting, she’ll chew me up and spit me out. I’m guessing someone fucked her up when she was younger to make her so uptight. If I’d been around, I’d blame myself. My sixteen- and seventeen-year-old self broke hearts left and right back then. I was a cocky asshole. However, I was in the Carolinas back then, so it wasn’t me. I’d damn sure like to come across the idiot that did her in, though; he’s the dipshit that’s to blame for making this job hard on me.

  “Don’t think I should talk to her today,” I admit with a mumble to Torch’s back. He throws a glance my way and shrugs, keeping his stride toward his kid. As soon as his sweet girl sees us, she sprints in our direction.

  She plows into Torch, enveloping him in a fierce hug and rambles excitedly, “Dad! I missed you today, and you brought Blaze? So cool!”

  “I missed you, too, angel.” He holds her pressed to his stomach as she doesn’t quite hit his chest yet.

  “Hey, pumpkin!” I beam a bright smile at her excited grin.

  We’re interrupted by a proper sounding, “Young lady! Excuse me, you can’t run across the pick-up lane like that!” The principal comes to stand in front of us, and I find myself swallowing as I take her in from head to toe. She’s fine as hell and more so up close.

  “Excuse me, Mr....” She huffs at my brother, not appearing intimidated in the slightest.

  “Torch,” he growls, and she rolls her eyes. I’ve seen people literally shake when pegged with his glare, but not her. This is going to be interesting watching her around the MC brothers; that’s for certain.

  “Right. I had forgotten that we’d gotten into a previous disagreement at our last meeting about legal names. Mr....Torch, your daughter can’t run through traffic,” she explains, exasperated. “She could get injured or worse, be hit by a moving vehicle.”

  And if someone was stupid enough to hurt a hair on her head, they’d be dead. My brother would make sure of it. I have no doubt.

  His brow does this tiny irritated twitch. “No one was moving. Your yuppie over there has the stop sign held up to those cages in line,” Torch supplies, and I find myself grinning. He rarely speaks so politely to anyone, and witnessing him on his best behavior is amusing.

  “Regardless,” she shakes her head, “it’s unacceptable.”

  Torch growls, murder overtaking his menacing stare, and I can’t hold back my laugh any longer. At my interruption, the woman trains her piercing gaze on me, watching as I flick my irises over her again. Her cheeks heat at my obvious attention, and her temper spikes.

  “Do you find this amusing, Mr.…”

  “Blaze,” I reply, flashing a devious grin, dimples on full display as I saunter a step closer. Invading her personal space throws her off-kilter enough that Torch and his daughter take off for his bike. “Or...big daddy, Mr. sexy-as-fuck, hot stuff, abs of steel...any of those would work just fine, sugar.” An average woman would smile, even giggle or reach out to touch my flexed bicep. I’m peacocking like a motherfucker, and it doesn’t even phase this lady one bit.

  Rather than giving in, she steps even closer, to the point that my steel-toed boots and the tips of her fancy heels are touching. The top of her head barely reaches my chin, but she’s got such big lady balls, it feels as if she’s staring eye to eye with me. If she were taller, our noses would be brushing, no doubt. “Mister Blaze.” Her voice hardens, lacing with unrelenting smugness. “I don’t believe you have a student enrolled here; therefore, you’re trespassing. Shall I call school security to escort you to the property line?” Her head tilts to the side, basically mocking, believing she has the upper hand.

  My grin turns lethal, my irises shining with challenge. “Only if you want to witness me break rent-a-cop’s hands in front of all these innocent children. I came to greet my niece with her father, but they’ve gone, so I’ll go for now.”

  “Until you’re on her contact card for approved visitors, it’d be in your best interest to remain off school property. It’s my duty to keep these children safe.”

  Leaning down, my nose nearly grazes hers; I get close enough to show her she doesn’t intimidate me in the slightest. “I’d be happy to contact my friend, the sheriff, if you’re ever concerned about their safety.” Standing back up to my full height, I send her a parting wink and stride to my bike.

  Torch and his daughter are waiting on me before they leave, his engine already idling. His eyebrow raises in a silent question, but I shake my head and climb on, starting my motorcycle up with a loud rumble. I rev it a few times, knowing the principal is staring her fill. She’ll be touching herself later as she remembers the sound and thinks back to all the things she could’ve said but didn’t. I don’t doubt that for one minute.

  Chapter 2

  Church

  “Brothers…” Viking, our club prez, looks around the table at each of us. “We’ve spoken about the heroin coming in over the border. I have an update from the Nomads. They’re in place and keeping watch at the time until we’re ready to bring some heat on the cartel. Right now, we gotta focus on breaking in these new prospects and getting the other clubs on board as backup.”

  Nightmare sits forward, the subject instantly infuriating him. “I’m ready to ride any fucking time of the day or night. Already told my ol’ lady to prepare for it. We should be with the Nomads, not breaking in a bunch of yellow-bellied fucks.”

  It takes everything in me not to burst out with a chuckle. This is serious, and it’ll piss off my cousin and Nightmare if I laugh. I’ve always used humor to deal with shit, though. I only got dubbed “Blaze” from smoking my share of weed when I was younger and getting the flames tatted on my arms. Besides, “giggles” isn’t a hardcore biker name, and my uncle’s Widow Makers MC wasn’t a place for pussies. The Oath Keepers MC isn’t either, but shit isn’t quite as twisted in this MC as it was in the former.

  “I’m ready, too, Night, but we’re sticking to the plan. Speaking of…” Prez turns to me. “You get shit sorted out yet with the school?”

  “I spoke to her,” I share, not keen to tell him how it went. The brothers will be all too happy to find out that I’ve met a woman who’s not easily bent to my charms. I’d get shit for days from them, and I’m not in the mood to deal with it, even if it is good-natured.

  His brow rises, impatiently waiting for details. The man’s face is like a slab of granite, fierce in every expression. I’ve had to face his anger in the past, and it wasn’t fun. Thought I’d die that day. It works to his advantage; fewer people will fuck with an MC if the prez looks like he’ll pop off your head with his bare hands and not flinch. Viking’s big ass could do it, too.

  Exhaling, I meet his stare and confess, “She threatened to have me removed from school property. I need Torch to add me to his daughter’s a
pproved visitors list.”

  Torch and Nightmare huff; both had previous run-ins with the woman, while the other brothers either smirk or outright chuckle. The dirty bunch of bastards. I’d like to see them do any better this early on. They sent me in to charm her; they’ve gotta give me a chance to do that much.

  I’ve got Odin, my cousin, who’s Viking’s younger brother and our VP beside me, then sits Viking, who’s my other cousin and Prez. After Prez is Torch, the club’s death dealer and finally, Nightmare, an original member and one of Viking’s closest friends. This end of the thick slab of oak is full of grouchy, broody fuckers, unlike the other half. The opposite side of the table seats Sinner and Saint, the club’s hell raisers; Chaos, Smokey, the club treasurer, and lastly, Mercenary, our newest patched transfer from the Chicago charter up north.

  Thankfully, the prospects aren’t allowed in church—only the club officers—or we’d really be packed in. It’s hard enough to breathe in this room with everyone smoking weed or puffing on cigarettes that, when we have visiting members, half are forced to stand against the walls. When Viking built this place, I don’t think he was anticipating having one of the largest active charters in the Oath Keepers MC. If we keep growing like we have been, he may need to think of expanding the compound. We could move church into the bar, use this room for storage or something, and then build on a new, bigger bar for everyone to use. I need to stop watching the HGTV channel; it’s making me want to build shit, and I don’t have time for it.

  Mercenary speaks up, his deep throaty rasp commanding attention. “Why don’t we just have this chick replaced if she keeps causing this much shit at the school? It seems smart to me that we introduce more of our own into the fold around the compound. You’ve got Scot’s ol’ lady with the bar down the road; it’s convenient to have her keeping a lookout for any incoming. My ol’ lady owns the local track and can store shit for us when needed.” He gestures off to the side in the general direction of his wife’s business. We all stare, waiting to hear where he’s going with this. It seems like a good idea if it’s feasible.

  Glancing around, Mercenary continues. “The Oath Keepers has a doc on payroll inside the clinic, besides 2 Piece putting in his free time patching us up. Spin’s got that tattoo shop which connects him to a lot of the younger people around here, as well as the seasoned birds. Twist does all that bodywork and painting with Spin whenever a local has a custom car or bike. You’ve got Princess and Avery, who help by taking care of the compounds and the club sluts when needed. Odin’s ol’ lady does all that baking for the farmer’s market downtown, which people can’t seem to buy quick enough...why not branch out farther and have someone at the school too? If you think about it, the more we’re integrated into the community, the more they accept us.”

  Viking relaxes back, his gaze beating down on Merc. Finally, he glances around, his expression lightening a touch. “Damn good idea. Any of you have a woman wanting work, or if you get one in the future, make sure she’s trying to get a job at one of the places around us. Smokey, I’ll get with you later to discuss our account balance and what we may be able to buy into locally. It’s about time we start thinking of the future in ways we haven’t already. I’m not talking about the money we bring in now, but something the club kids can have a piece of. Maybe a sandwich shop or something... I want them to have a way to be legit and not face bullshit bias harassment because they’re tied to us.”

  I guzzle the rest of my beer, then ask, “So, I give up on the principal then? We just replacing her?”

  Everyone’s attention falls to me again, and Viking scoffs. “Fuck no. Plan’s still in place with her. We don’t have the school board on speed dial to fire her ass, so get in there and get her to submit. She’s been a fucking pain to the club for long enough.”

  Sweat breaks out across my brow at his words, but I nod regardless. They haven’t seen how fucking gorgeous she is. They’re like me, assuming she’s some uptight, boring, rule-enforcing, lonely cat lady. This is not the case at all; she probably turns down assholes while pumping gas or buying groceries.

  “Anything else?” Prez questions, and we grunt out various no’s. “Then, get the fuck out!” He slams the gavel down, and we shuffle out, headed for the bar in the next room.

  Torch approaches, folding his thick, tattooed arms over his chest. “So, the chat you had with her the other day was that bad, huh?” He’s fucking jack diesel; we should’ve called him Terminator or some shit. Back then, we had no idea how huge he’d become, though.

  I nod. “I was gonna hit you up about it, but Princess has had me busy fixing her car. Viking’s had too much shit going on to do it, and I don’t like thinking of her without transportation.” Vike’s ol’ lady has become the little sister I never had. I’ve protected her since the day after the Widow Makers MC, and I had held her hostage. She could’ve had her ol’ man kill me, but she saved my life instead. I vowed from that moment on that I would do whatever I could to keep her safe. The vow evolved from a protection detail to her becoming my family and someone I’d consider a best friend.

  “Did you get the car finished?” He sits on the stool next to mine, our broad shoulders making up a wall of muscle.

  “Yeah. There was a coolant leak. Three hoses and a water pump later, and it runs like new. Pain in the fucking ass too.”

  A beer is placed in front of me, along with a bottle of water for Torch. I nod my thanks to Frost, the prospect working the bar today. I had to train him, so I’ve been around Frost more than anyone else around here lately. He’s not too bad; he’ll make a good club member someday.

  “We can pop smoke in a few, and I can get you added onto the approved list before I take care of some club shit. She’s a ballsy bitch, giving you the boot for that shit.”

  “Bet,” I respond and take a long pull from the ice-cold beverage. I should grab some flowers or some shit and just get this over with. It’s probably a good idea to make my presence known to her as much as possible. She’s gotta learn real quick that she can’t get rid of me so easily. I’m going to be like a fly on her ass, hard to swat away and always buzzing to remind her I’m there.

  Finishing off our drinks, we throw a quick munch on some lasagna that Princess was kind enough to make for the club’s lunch and head for the parking lot. As the heavy door closes behind us, a matte black Hell Cat pulls to a stop, doors opening wide to reveal the ol’ ladies from the other charter.

  London gets out of the driver’s seat; she’s tall with big tits nearly spilling over her low-cut leopard-print top. She’s so damn curvy that the woman could make a man weep with her wide hips. Her hair’s black as night, tinted with blue, and the outfit she’s wearing has her looking every ounce of a pinup doll stepping from a magazine cover. She’s a bad bitch, the ol’ lady to the VP down the road, and she’s almost always knocked up. Who can blame a brother, though? I’m sure we’d all have her ass on lock-down if we were in his shoes.

  Avery steps from the passenger side, her auburn hair cut perfectly in layers and shining. Her nose is peppered with freckles that have her appearing a touch more innocent than she is. She comes from a wealthy home and wears money with class. She flashes an easy smile at us while looking damn good in a silk shirt she’d refer to as a blouse, no doubt. She’s always in tight-as-fuck diamond-studded jean shorts that make her ass look like you could bounce a quarter off it. Not that any of us would ever go there; she’s like our Jude, claimed by two of our brothers. Surprisingly, she balances their charter prez and gun runner flawlessly. She could easily use her club status to her advantage but doesn’t; she’s kind, welcoming, and loyal—all traits we want in an ol’ lady of the Oath Keepers.

  A tiny blonde climbs out of the back seat. Her hair’s so light, it’s nearly white and falls to her waist. She’s pushing maybe five feet at most, reminding me of a pixie; she’s the Oath Keepers’ very own Tinker Bell. She may seem sweet and an easy target, but she’s Twist’s ol’ lady, Sadie. He’s one of the crazies
t motherfuckers in the entire club—the unholy one—so Sadie must be a secret badass. Not only that, but her older brother is 2 Piece, the gun runner. She’s also part of the reason why I was nearly killed trying to protect Princess and our club a while back. Her kid is the grandson to the president of the Iron Fists MC, a rival of ours. I’ve learned that sometimes the sweetest women are the most deceptively dangerous.

  “Ladies,” I call out in welcome, always the charmer.

  Two additional cages and a street bike pull in to park next to the Hell Cat. Bethany, Nightmare’s ol’ lady, gets out of a car to greet Mercenary’s ol’ lady in the grumbling, fully restored Nova. Chevelle owns the race track down the road, so she’s always in a souped-up muscle car with enough horsepower to make you want to check the size of your balls. The crimson-haired, leather-clad female climbing off the street bike to stand beside London is Snake’s ol’ lady, Peppermint. This is a prime example why so many of us are single still. How can we find a chick worthy when you compare them to the bad bitches of the Oath Keepers? These females would eat the average woman alive if offered the chance.

  “Fuck,” Torch mutters under his breath, taking in the gorgeous group of women. “The fuck is going on?” he asks loud enough so only I can overhear him.

  “Don’t know, brother,” I reply. “But a group of bitches this bad...in one place has me wondering if we should leave at all. Maybe we should check their cars for dynamite or some shit; they could be up to something. Viking may need us, after all.”

  He snorts, folding his arms across his chest, his tattooed biceps bulging as he glares at the females in front of us. “There a problem?” he asks outright. Any other group of chicks would tuck tail and get out of here, but not these troublemakers.

  London saunters toward us first with a sway in her hips; the others are quick to follow. Smirking, my dimples come out to play as I tease, “Your ol’ man know you stole his car again?”