Oath Keepers MC: The Collection

by Sapphire Knight

  The brothers speak of the fights as if they were horror stories. Ares would try to rip body parts off the challenger while they were still alive. In the beginning, he’d break down after the fights. Now, he just zones out and becomes quiet.

  He likes to zone out, so people never know what he’s thinking or feeling. Ares’ head is warped and Prez found it was best to have him as the Enforcer for the club. He’s the perfect machine to get information or torture someone. Everyone wins—Ares gets to relieve his anger and the demons plaguing him inside, and the club gets their business handled.

  He’s become much better over the years and you can tell he uses sex as another type of outlet. He’s dominant and enjoys having people watch, hell, I think it’s a fucking turn on tool. I figured Avery might’ve agreed that it was hot as well, since she likes for me to get kinky with her.

  Ares loves that stuff; he ties bitches up and spanks them and shit. He enjoys control and violence in club situations, but, at the same time, is often the voice of reason. I’m sure he’s much more twisted when he’s with certain women who enjoy it. Ares and I have also shared pussy quite a few times. He’s not bisexual but we enjoy watching each other with a woman and having threesomes.

  I hear a loud commotion and my gaze falls toward the main entry. What the fuck’s going on now? Not enough alcohol on the planet for me at the moment, with all the damn drama.

  “Prez!” Capone yells as soon as the door leading inside the club opens. He hobbles in, helping someone through the doorway. He seems fairly panicked and he’s covered in blood. His arm is wrapped around Brently, and there is blood all over the front of Brently’s shirt.

  Fuck!

  I hop off the barstool and move as quickly as possible to get to them. Reaching out, I help Brently. I’m a lot bigger than Capone is, so it will be easier for me.

  “Fuck, Cap, go get the fucking Prez. He’s going to freak the fuck out over this shit.” Capone may be the weapons expert but my ass is closer to the head of the table than his is, so he has to follow my orders.

  He nods and takes off down the hall towards the Prez’s office. I help get Brently to a couch and lay him down.

  “Fuck, man, what happened exactly?” I lift his shirt up high and carefully, trying not to touch what might be underneath.

  Christ that has to hurt.

  Spanning the width of his stomach and about six inches high, the word SNAKES has been tattooed. It could’ve been carved in for how angry the skin looks. It’s bloody and surrounded in burn marks but there’s no way that’s the source of all this blood.

  “What’s all the blood from?” I grumble and frantically scan his body.

  Brently takes a deep breath and winces. “It’s not my stomach, there’s a slice by my ribs under my arm pit. They said that they hope I’d bleed too much, that they know Dad and some Russian guy are sniffing around. Th-they wanted to pull my intestines out and braid them, crazy motherfuckers.”

  Double shit. This is so not good if the Twisted Snakes know we’re checking into them. At least, I guess we’re checking into them. I bet that’s what those fucking looks were between Ares and Cain when I was asking to be filled in. Appears those assholes left out some shit when we had our chat.

  I hear multiple footsteps come thundering down the hall, the sound echoing off the walls. I know it’s Prez. He loves his kids so much; he’s going to be heated about this shit.

  I stand up to greet the storm I know is coming.

  Prez’s face is awash with worry and concern when he rounds the corner. “Brently? The fuck’s going on here? 2, is that your blood? Where’s my kid?” Prez scans the room as he barks a variety of questions. He can’t see Brently since he’s lying on the couch.

  “Your kid’s over on the couch. Fucking Snakes got to him.” I nod toward the spot where Brently lays. Prez follows my motion, eventually seeing him.

  “Motherfucker, give me a name, now.” he snarls loudly and rushes to Brently’s side.

  I jump out of his way; he’ll want to thoroughly check him over again. Capone comes to stand beside Prez, doing fuck all, not even twiddling his thumbs. It annoys the fuck out of me to see him basically standing around with his finger up his ass. Sometimes he acts like he doesn’t know what the hell to do without a set of directions laid out.

  “Capone, get a clean fucking bar towel, man,” I growl and glower at him like he’s a damn dimwit.

  He nods and quickly snatches a towel off the long, polished oak bar top. We keep a folded pile right at the end of the bar. We’re men; we spill shit all the time. Figured it was the most convenient place for them. I snatch it out of his hands and wad it up.

  “Prez, put some pressure on that stab wound for him. I’ll go get the med kit.”

  He peers over at me for a second and then down at my hands. He’s lost in an angry haze clouding his mind. I wave the towel wad a few times before it clicks and gets through to him. I know he must be thinking a million things right now, processing what his next move should be. If it was my son, I’d be doing the same thing.

  This is one of the main things you don’t pull with the Oath Keepers MC. You don’t fuck with members or their families. Ares and Twist are going to have a field day with these dumb fucks when we get ahold of them. No telling what their creative methods will be. Those Snakes have no clue just how twisted our Twist is; they haven’t seen anything yet.

  Prez snatches the wad from my grip and kneels next to Brently to apply some pressure on the gash. I’m going to need some ointment to put on those burns and the stitch kit. I hate doing this shit, but it’s got to be done. It seems like I’m always the one patching people up.

  “Shit!” Brently yelps when Prez lays the towel against his mutilated skin.

  Poor dude, I bet that shit hurts like a bitch.

  I make my way down the hall towards the bathroom. It’s gray with four stalls and two sinks in it for when we have get-togethers and company. Nothing special, but it works. Digging through the closet, I grab my med kit med kit. It has the basics such as gauze, cotton balls, super glue, peroxide, alcohol swabs, Q-tips, needles, ointments, Ace bandages, thread, etc. for random injuries.

  Snatching that up, I jog back to Brently.

  He wheezes a few painful sounding breaths, panting through the pain. “Fuck, it hurts. How am I going to get rid of this ugly-ass tattoo?”

  Capone and I both chuckle at that. Brently is a bigtime pretty boy. Now he has this ugly-ass tattoo and a gnarly gash that will end up leaving a sick looking jagged scar as well.

  “Don’t you worry ‘bout that fuckin’ tattoo, boy. I’m going to skin those little fuckers for this bullshit,” Prez growls, his eyes shining with promises of payback.

  “Dad, seriously, they’re nasty guys. I don’t want to see any of the members get hurt because of me.”

  Brently’s a good kid, always keeping his nose clean. The guy should be away at college but instead he ended up deciding to stay local. Looking at Prez, it’s hard to believe he even has a kid this old. I think he’s in his late forties though.

  “It’s club business. You didn’t want to be a part of it, so it’s not your decision.” Prez cuts him off and I nod, agreeing. He’s been trying to get his son to be a part of the club for years now. “Capone, call Spin and tell him to get the fuck over here as soon as possible to look at this shitty tatt.”

  “Sure, Prez. I’m on it.” Capone sits at the bar and pulls out his flip phone.

  Good little minion. At least that will keep him busy for a while. Don’t get me wrong, Capone’s not a bad guy. He just comes off as naïve sometimes and it’s annoying as fuck.

  Hopefully Spin can get over here soon. I don’t know what to do with that nasty looking tattoo besides clean it up; he should have a better idea.

  Have to give this kid props, telling us to hold off on getting retribution. If it were me, I’d be pointing and shooting the first chance I got. Brently has some balls, laying here hurting and not seeking revenge.


  Prez steps a few paces away and gets on the horn. I’m sure he’s calling another fucking meeting. We can’t seem to stay out of church here lately.

  Dumping peroxide all over his stomach, it sizzles and Brently clenches his teeth, hissing. Bet that burns like a bitch. There’s so much that needs fixing, and I’m no doctor. Thank God they didn’t really gut him, or I wouldn’t be able to help him at all.

  “Ah shit!” He lets out a strangled yell after clenching his teeth for a few seconds.

  I wince and mutter, “Sorry, bro. I have to get this shit cleaned up. There’s no telling how dirty that shit was they used on you to do this.” I pat it dry with the bloody towel and thread my needle. “Want anything for the sewing?”

  “I already took something Capone gave me,” he grumbles as he shakes his head.

  Carefully, I begin sewing him up. “Well, deep breaths then and hold still. Don’t want to fuck this up, or you’ll have an even more jacked up scar.” I sigh and attempt to concentrate on my task.

  “It just hurts, bad, 2. Those guys were such dicks. I’m glad I wasn’t at Mom’s house or my sister’s apartment. I couldn’t imagine her or Princess getting hurt like this.”

  “I know, just try not to worry about it. Your dad will take care of things and make sure Mona and Princess are safe, he always has.”

  “That’s one thing I do worry about though. I don’t want my dad or any of you guys getting hurt, all because I fell for the wrong girl,” he admits with a whisper, closing his eyes.

  I can’t blame the kid, falling for some good pussy. Speaking of, I wonder if Avery’s feeling better now. I need to check on her and fix my fuck-up.

  I’d hate to have to go through what Brently does with his woman. Being kept away from the chick I want would drive me mad. It’s bad enough Avery lives far away; in Tennessee and that I have to put up a front so people will leave me the fuck alone about it. I mean, I don’t have to front, but I do anyhow.

  “It’s all good, kid; a lot of us have fucked up somehow when it comes to females.” I finish the last stitch, wipe around the sewed-up area and wrap his wound in some sterile gauze. “All set. Just make sure you keep it clean. If it starts oozing or anything fucked up like that, go to the doc. Yeah?” He nods.

  I grab his hand and help pull him to sit up carefully.

  “Ah.” He groans, scrunching up his face in pain while laying his hand over the gash I just sewed up.

  “Go easy on touching that shit. You don’t want to fuck-up the stitches. Trust me, the second round of stitches are no joke,” I scold.

  Ares and Cain come rushing into the room.

  “The fuck’s up, boss?” Ares’ gaze goes straight to Prez “I called Twist and Smiles. They’re on their way in here now.”

  “Good. Capone is at the bar and Spin is on his way too. That’s enough for an emergency vote. The other brothers running behind will have to be caught up later. Cain, go call Niko to come to the club so I can fill in everyone at once. Ares, call the Nomads when we’re out of church and tell them it may be time to ride in.”

  Cain walks to the side and quickly pulls his phone out.

  “Sure, boss. No problem. You want them all here?” Ares asks as Twist and Smiles come walking in.

  “Ah, no, just call Nightmare and Exterminator for now. Those big boys should be the right kind of force I need for this issue.” Prez heads to the bar and grabs a bottle of Johnny Walker Red and a tumbler. “Everybody get the fuck to church.” he booms and Twist jumps.

  He gets crazy eyes for a minute then takes off for church. Twist doesn’t like yelling; it seems to trigger something in him and sometimes he flips out. Today wouldn’t be a good day for him to lose it.

  I shift closer to Prez and lean in so nobody knows my business. “Prez. I need to check on something really quick.”

  “2, it’s time for church, brother.” He gives me a once-over and turns back toward Brently.

  “Yeah, I get it, but I need to peek my head in my room,” I argue stubbornly.

  “The fuck you do. That shit can wait. This is muthafuckin’ club business and it’s time for church. Other bullshit gets dealt with after church.”

  I know he’s pissed because his son’s hurt so I nod and head in with the other guys. It irritates the fuck out of me, but Prez deserves my respect and compliance so I shake it off. I know if it were me, I’d want immediate action.

  I’ll have to do some major ass kissing to Avery at this point. I should’ve stayed in my room until she came out. Jesus, did I dig myself into a mess with her or what? I’m not cut out for this woman shit. You’d think I learned something from my sister, but nope. She didn’t date much growing up, because I’d chase the losers off.

  Fucking women. Shaking my head, I take my place at the table. I chin-lift to my brothers and give the head of the table my full attention. It’s time for club business and that is something that I understand.

  Avery

  Sitting up off the floor, I scrub my hands down my face. Fuck, I must’ve passed out after my crying fit. I haven’t been doing anything really, but that car ride from Tennessee must’ve worn me out. Sixteen hours in a truck with only pee breaks is a bit overwhelming. I feel like I’ve ran a marathon, especially with my tidal wave of emotions.

  2 Piece is most likely asleep in his room. I bet he thinks I’m a hot-ass mess, locking him out of his own bathroom. I smack my lips a few times.

  Ugh, I need something to drink.

  My face feels swollen and my hair like it’s shooting off in every direction. I stand up and lean over the sink to stare into the mirror. Yep. I look like a freaking monster. I have Medusa hair and dried slobber on part of my left cheek.

  Twisting on the cold water, I let my hands sit under it for a moment to help wake me up. Cupping my hands, I wash my face and attempt to pat down my hyperactive hair.

  Deep breaths. I silently chant a few times to myself.

  Okay, time to pull myself together and go out there. I want to see how he acts or if he’s asleep. Hopefully, we can talk this over and everything will be good again. I don’t want him to disappear from my life when he’s barely in it as it is.

  Opening the bathroom door, I check around the room, glancing at the bed first—nope, empty—and the corner chair—empty too. Shit. He never came back to the freaking room.

  I bet that fucking asshole went and found another girl! To think I was feeling bad and sorry for flipping out so much. He has some damn nerve, I swear. I came all this way from Tennessee, for him to do this shit to me?

  Oh hell no, I don’t fucking think so.

  Leaving the room, I storm through the clubhouse. I’ll give him a piece of my mind once and for all. He’ll learn not to make a damn fool out of me. He doesn’t like drama? Well, he hasn’t even seen drama yet!

  Turns out, he’s nowhere to be found. He’s not in the kitchen, the bar, the bathroom, nowhere. Men can be so infuriating. Of course out of all of them, I have to pick a bullheaded biker.

  The only person I saw out in the bar was some young guy on the couch with a bandage wrapped around his chest. He was good-looking too. He seemed a few years younger than me though.

  Poor guy looked miserable. I bet whatever happened to him hurt pretty badly. He probably wrecked his motorcycle or something. There was also an awful looking tattoo on him too. Yuck.

  Fuck this shit, I’m calling Nikoli and telling him all about this crap. If anything, 2 will get his ass beat for being a dick and leaving me like he did. I might like cocks, but I damn sure won’t date one.

  I step out the main door and into the Texas warmth. God, even at nighttime this place stays warm. So far, I love it here.

  I can see why London was so happy to come back. She’s lucky to have Cain in her life. I wonder if I’ll ever have what she has. Well, not exactly the same, but just someone to grow old with at least. I don’t want the fifty kids they’ll probably end up having. Maybe one, someday down the road, but that’s it.

  I pu
ll my Galaxy S7 out and find Niko’s picture, then press the call icon forcefully. Yep, pressing it hard makes me feel a little better. It rings twice then he picks up. It sounds like he’s driving, there’s a little echo and noises like he’s rolling up the window.

  “Yes, Bean?”

  “Niko, I need you to come get me from the club, please.”

  “Okay, I am coming now.”

  “Thank you so much. See you soon.”

  “Yes,” he absently responds and hangs up.

  Niko’s the type who’ll text you all day long, but he hates talking on the phone with a passion. I guess probably because he’s a man and they all say they don’t care for it. I think Niko likes to be able to read your expression and the way things are said, so he can react appropriately.

  I’m glad I don’t come from another country and have to worry about speaking another language, or learning to read people’s different body language and stuff. It must be such a pain in the ass for him. I’ve never thought of that before. I’ll have to stop giving him so much crap about it.

  Anyhow, back to that asshole. I’m going to tell Nikoli everything. He’s my best friend and I have no problems sharing with him.

  Gravel crunches and I glance up, seeing truck approach. He speeds through the lot as soon as the prospect opens the gate. The shape of the truck’s headlights gives him away instantly. The Silverado’s are nice trucks, his drove like a Cadillac the entire trip here.

  He parks quickly and jumps out, appearing flustered and rushed. I wonder what he was up to. Maybe he met a girl? Could everyone be finding booty calls in Texas? Well, everyone but me obviously.

  “Yes, Bean, what is happening?” He seems way too upset for just a little call from me. I mean, he got that I was that upset from just a few words? He’s crazy good. No wonder he and Tate can communicate with just certain looks.