Nothing moves in that city without mafia interference, but how long can people spend underneath the boot of the government before they respond? The roots of the American Revolution ran deep in Boston, and this sense of powerlessness permeated the streets.
Aiden hadn’t seen this coming, but the bikers did. Bikers always lived with more anarchy than the mob. When the people demanded, “We have to do something”, Aiden understood the weight of what they asked.
War with the federal government, or a target on their backs.He refused to participate with the full-scale power of the Murray family mob, but he established support for several local militia leaders and put them in contact with men who could supply guns and other military resources – men who would be sympathetic to the cause…
The Third Month
Ten of the barbarians are in loving interracial relationships. They have mixed kids. They have mixed-race families and a Native American “sister” they’re all sworn to protect. Wyatt Shaw, head of the motorcycle club, agreed to establish a weapons supply chain extended from the West to the East coast, traveling along the old Route 66 highway, controlled almost entirely by members or relatives of the Rebel Barbarians motorcycle club.
If America ever was a free country, the raids in Boston prove that freedom won’t be taken for granted.
Most of the barbarians live out West, far away from the domestic war brewing on American soil. But nowhere is really safe from the far reaching arm of America’s new authoritarian government, and despite the love for his country and stability he feels, gamblers tend towards paranoia, and Wyatt is really no different.
Club traditions have changed over time, but the pendulum swings back the other way, yanking the country away from progress and into a new world order…
The next few months will be crucial for the Rebel Barbarians. One misstep could mean death at the hands of the police or immigration enforcement. Worse consequences might await running afoul of the federal government.
The club left behind violence and war anticipating an era of peace which may never come.
With soldiers on every street corner and threats to American freedom growing on the East Coast, it’s safe to say thatabsolutely nothingwill be the same as it once was for the motorcycle club or its members.
Ethan has his marching orders: Establish this next chapter of the Rebel Barbarians and strengthen the weapons supply to the East Coast.
There will be little time for romance under these conditions, but love has a strange way of finding life and light in even the darkest circumstances.
The next books will ask important questions and continue the club’s story.
Does love still exist underneath a reign of terror?
In a world that forces us to segregate and choose sides, what happens when you love the wrong person?
Keep reading for Zebulon’s story, which begins roughly three months after Damara and Magnum’s marriage.
Chapter One
Zebulon “Zeb” Blackwood
Several Months Ago
My phone buzzes while I'm kneeling at the foot of my bed, praying to God for forgiveness. I'm naked when I pray, except for a pair of white underwear and a thick layer of sweat. Zebulon can't come to the phone right now.
And Dear Lord, I apologize for the way I enjoyed removing his small intestine. I apologize for the rush I felt when I watched the life fade from his eyes. I promise to act only in your service, to protect the innocent, and to behave in accordance with your rules on Earth. Killing must feel this pleasurable to me for a reason, for you made all things in your image... even me...
Amen.
My phone buzzes again. Fuck this. I get up, stepping over the pool of sweat to check the messages on my phone. Ethan Shaw.My boss for the moment. He's a lot smarter than Gideon or Ruger.
Doesn't take much to be smarter than Ruger. I have no idea how he made it through Ranger school.
I got through because I was always willing to do things nobody else was. I'm tough, corn-fed, and capable of breaking a human neck between two fingers.
Ethan follows his text up with an address.
Guess that's where I'm going. I towel sweat off the back of my neck and face. Blood pumps fast through all my extremities. I feel... better.
Praying is the only way I can keep the dark voices away. They get so loud sometimes, it's all I can hear. But when I give my problems up to God, the voices disappear.
Ruger gave me his old Indian Scout when I turned eighteen and pledged my loyalty to the Rebel Barbarians Motorcycle Club. I knew since I was a kid I wanted to join up. The Rebel Barbarians are made of good, traditional stuff, but their problems with race always bothered me.
