Title: Property of Cobalt: Kings of Anarchy MC: Indiana
Author: D.M. Earl
Genre: Dark Romantic Suspense & MC Romance
Release Date: June 15, 2026
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.
He's a ruthless predator. She's his prey. Together, it's about to get wild.
COBALT
President of the Kings of Anarchy MC Chapter in Tranquility, Indiana, Brett "Cobalt" Waters feels nothing close to tranquil. Taking over his father's vile and ruthless business keeps him high strung and on edge. After all, he has lives to save and lives to end if he wants to expand the business successfully and lucratively without getting picked up by the law. But when his new business venture brings him face to face with a vulnerable and battered woman, his protective instincts go into overdrive.
JULIE
Accountant Julie Drake knows fraud when she sees it. Questioning the numbers on a new account proves perilous when she pries too deep. Now, there's a bounty on her head. There's only one man who's willing to believe her and protect her. Unfortunately, Julie doesn't realize that Cobalt is the same criminal who’s been hired to eliminate her.
As Julie and Cobalt grow closer, Cobalt's loyalties are tested. How can he destroy the one thing he's been looking for his entire life?Welcome to the Kings of Anarchy MC, where the Kings rule in chaos, and the open road is our Kingdom. With 42 of your favorite authors penning their own chapters in this outlaw empire, you'll dive into a world where rules are a thing of the past. Here, nobody messes with the Kings or lays a hand on their property—because these badass bikers claim their lovers with pride. Enter a universe where loyalty is everything, legends are born, and every ride is unforgettable.
Are you ready to ride with the Kings of Anarchy MC?
Chapter 1
COBALT“What the fuck is taking so long to get that pain in my ass in the goddamn metal box and in the crisper? For Christ’s sake, there have been nights where we ran an assembly line with bodies, but tonight you can’t get one in there together. You two idiots have been messing with that asshole for the last twenty minutes. Move, you stupid bastards, I should’ve done it myself. If you want shit done right, do it your motherfuckin’ yourself. Get out of my way, ya two useless pieces of shit.”Listening to my enforcer, Incubus, ripping our newer prospects a new asshole almost brings a smirk to my face, though I’m gonna have to rein him in before he scares these newbies out of our Indiana chapter of the Kings of Anarchy. Son of a bitch, I think to myself as I make my way to the incinerator, I never thought, when I finally took over for my cantankerous ol’ man and became president of the Indiana chapter, I’d be working harder than when I was just a member and brother. Especially doing this pain in the ass kind of work with the patch I’m currently wearing on my kutte. Now that my head is out of my own ass and I’m head of our chapter, I know there isn’t a job within our club or out there in our world—where I walk through on both sides of the law—that if needed, I’d have to get my hands dirty no matter who the fuck I am. When I give it any thought, these scarred paws of mine haven’t been clean in so many goddamn years.The fucker is squealing like a pig off to the slaughterhouse, so I move quickly to the far table to grab some duct tape to shut this motherfucker up before my head blows. I move back to where my brothers are working and rip off a large piece. I push one of the prospects out of the damn way and put the tape over the asshole’s mouth, bringing instant quiet to the area and my ears stop ringing. My eyes catch both of the prospects looking at me like I hung the fucking moon, for Christ’s sake. Incubus is working on removing all the dude’s clothing and jewelry. Even though this bastard thinks he’s getting fried, the original request came in to remove all personal items off of him and hand them off to one of the client’s employees. For the money we are making to shake and bake one dude, I personally don’t care what they want. If they had asked for a hand or eyeball, would have given them someone’s, no questions asked. I smell it before I shift my eyes to see the guy has not only pissed but also shit himself. For a brief second I do feel bad for him. Been thinking lately that maybe I’m getting soft, or maybe it’s just my ol’ man’s voice in my head. Then it hits me that, in all good conscience, I can’t go through with this shit as both Incubus and I are in the know and the prospects ain’t. I turn and hit one of the drawers, pulling out a syringe, and walk back to where everyone is standing. Incubus just finished cutting off all the dude’s clothes and is now ripping any and all jewelry off of him. I can see the absolute terror in his eyes, watching me, though it’s Incubus who moans when he sees what’s in my hand.“Shit, Prez, really? I was looking forward to hearing this jagoff begging then howling as the heat took over right before the sizzle, as he starts to cook like bacon in a frying pan. Now I won’t hear a goddamn thing. When did our club of degenerates start going soft just like this dude’s dick right now?”I stare hard at Incubus until he starts to twitch, which says a lot for this bastard. We served and were in a prisoner of war camp for months together, and I never saw him squirm or give any indication of fear or pain, no matter what was done to him. Underneath all his gruff and posing, he’s a damn good friend and excellent member of this club. I just can’t let this go on the way he’s been playing with me lately, being vocal in front of others. Maybe he’s right and I’m getting soft and, personally, I don’t give a fuck if I am. Gotta have a little humanity some days. I look down to the dude in the box, lying in his own piss and shit, right before I rip the tape off his face, which has him screaming, crying, and begging. Gotta shut him up so I wave the syringe in front of his face, which has him instantly going quiet with just a few sniffles.“This is more than you deserve, but I’m feeling generous tonight. You had a contract with our client that you broke, and you know the rules, asshole. Then when you didn’t hold up your end they warned you numerous times, which you ignored. That’s when they came to us. Their request is that we end your miserable life and since we were well paid, that is exactly what we are gonna do. Once I put this needle in your arm, within a few minutes you’ll fall into a deep fucking sleep and, if you’re lucky, won’t feel a goddamn thing. No, don’t want to hear you beg me or lie to my face, telling me you’re not guilty. None of that is my problem. We were paid to do a job and that’s what we’re doing.”
When I go to pull the cover off the needle, he softly starts to talk after clearing his throat.
“Hang on one minute, please. I’m not going to fight or cause you any trouble. Just need a favor, which I have no right to ask, but I have to. You’re right, I should have held up my end of the deal, but there were extreme circumstances that prevented me from doing just that. Not going to go into it but those assholes knew, and when I begged for mercy and a bit more time they laughed and beat the fuck out of me. I paid partial payments to show good faith and when they told me those payments weren’t gonna go toward my loan because it wasn’t a full payment, knew I was screwed. When I asked for my money back they beat the fuck out of me again. So yeah, you’re right, mister, I should have held up my end but those mafia guys are total assholes, and worse, liars. I’d do it again if it gave me the time with my mom I had. She died of stage four cervical cancer a week ago and, thank Christ, you didn’t pick me up before her funeral. If I wasn’t there my sister would have had a heart attack. Thank you for your kindness, guess I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be. Oh shit, if a woman named Julie somehow starts askin’ questions, please don’t tell her anything and get her the hell outta this town. If those mafia guys find out she’s my sister, oh fuck, can’t think of what they’d do to her for their own fun and games.”
My brain is flying through all of what he just said as I hear a very gruff “son of a bitch,” which comes from Incubus. Guess he’s feeling the same way I am, which is the mafia is using us to end this guy, apparently, without telling us the damn truth. Now what do I do? If we don’t finish this and our asshole contact, Anthony, finds out; it’s war with the mafia, which is something I don’t fucking need. But can we honestly end this guy’s life for falling on hard times? I mean, if what he is telling us is the truth, he tried to pay his debt off, even if it was partially. I can bet my ass the money he borrowed was for something to do with his ma’s cancer and treatment. Just that thought brings up my own mom, who also was taken by that god-awful disease. Shit, knowing we are bringing hell down on our club, I silently scream in my head when I hear Incubus telling the prospects to run to the other side of our building and find a John Doe who’s about the same size as the guy in the box. With puzzled looks on their faces, but smart enough not to ask any questions, they both turn and make their way out of the crematory, and I’m guessing they are going back to the cemetery side.
“All right, Cobalt, what’s your plan? I know you can’t go through with this bullshit, and I don’t question you ever, but we better have a way for this to work for our club. Help me get him out. Asshole, what’s your name?”
With wide eyes that are following every move Incubus makes, he once again clears his throat.
“I go by Stash, though my name is James but most call me Jimmy.”
We both reach for an arm and pull Stash up to a sitting position. Something clicks so I start firing off questions, asking what he did for a living, where he lived, did he have family besides his sister? Without hesitation he answers each and every one of my questions. A thought crosses my mind when he tells me he works in technology, mainly programming and coding. I glance at Incubus, who’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, which tells me once again we’re on the same page. Stash tells us he was living in one of those apartments you rent by the month and he thinks the Mob took all of his shit when they grabbed him the last time. Hesitantly, I bring up his sister, which he tells me is living in a B&B on the outskirts of town and has her own life. Stash continues telling us he tries to keep her away from any shit he’s involved in. The hair on the back of my neck is standing up when I realize what he just told us about his sister. I like all of his answers as we pull him outta the box, telling him to hang on, just as the prospects come back in dragging a body. I hear the pull in of breath but Stash doesn’t say a word. I noticed one prospect has some scrubs under his arm with those flip-flops you get when you are entered into prison. I watch Nickel walk toward Stash, handing him the clothes, along with a container of wipes to clean off with. Dreamer drags the corpse to where Incubus is watching and waiting. Together they lift him into the metal box, then Incubus proceeds to remove the clothes, tossing them into the incinerator behind him. The smell is nauseating but it is what it is, we all have gotten used to it. Obviously Stash can’t stand the smell as he starts to gag. Nickel kicks the garbage can his way just in time.
I walk toward the door, reaching for my cell. Finding the number I want, I hit it and hear it ringing.
“Yeah, Cobalt, what’s up? Did y’all finish the cookout?”
Everything we talk about on our phones is generally in some kind of code, never know if someone is listening.
“Psycho, meet me back at the house, will ya, brother? We need to talk.”
I can hear him moving around and when he tells someone to “shut the fuck up, get dressed, and get the hell out of here” I kind of feel bad interrupting, but hey, he signed up to be my vice president.
“Yeah, Prez, be there in under thirty minutes. Need me to pick anything up?”
I rack my brain for a second then give him a short list of shit before hanging up.
Turning, I’m just in time to see the metal box moving toward the inside of the contraption that is probably hotter than hell. Stash is looking between all of us but isn’t saying a word. This poor motherfucker has been through the wringer. Walking up to him I see his body tense but he holds his ground. Nice is my thought when I stop in front of him.
“Stash, today is your lucky day. We are gonna take you back to our clubhouse and make you an offer you won’t be able to say no to. Well, that’s if you have any brain cells left in your head, motherfucker. One last question, which B&B is your sister Julie staying at? We need to bring her in also, don’t argue, you bastard. Only way she’s gonna stay breathing. Now on that offer, ya don’t have to take it, we will still help ya out but the one thing you won’t get is our protection. Choice is yours. For now, gonna have to ride bitch with one of the prospects. Not a far ride, but it’s kinda cold out. Let me grab ya one of my lined hoodies. Here, fucker, suck on this mint, you smell like vomit. Let’s ride.”
I can see both Dreamer and Nickel bickering about who is going to have Stash riding bitch. I look to Incubus, who shrugs his shoulders. My eyes pin onto Dreamer, who drops his head before he looks back up and nods. All it takes most times is a look with all of our prospects. I’m known to be fair and demanding. Not a bad thing is my thought as I make my way to my bike to pull a hoodie out of one of my bags. I walk back to Stash and hand it to him and hear his soft thanks before going back to my bike, switching it on. As the prospects head back to the clubhouse, Incubus and I make our way to the B&B to pick up Stash’s sister, Julie, before the pain in my ass Mob finds her out there all by herself with no protection. I know one thing we don’t need is another babysitting job. Thinking to myself that this day can’t get any worse, then I remind myself of the club superstitions. If you say or think it then your worst thoughts might come true. The damn shit these brothers put into my head is starting to weigh me down.
D.M. Earl is a U.S.A. Today Bestselling Author who spins stories about real life situations with characters that are authentic, genuine, and sincere. Each of her stories allow the characters to come to life with each turn of the page while they try to find their HEA through much drama and angst. D.M. finds ideas for her next story from within those around her and what she experiences in daily life. Each book has a part of her left behind in it. She lives in Northwest Indiana married to her best friend who was instrumental in the start of her writing career in 2014. When not writing D.M. loves to read, play with her seven fur-babies (yeah crazy) and ride her Harley Dyna Lowrider.
“Enjoy this Ride we call Life.” Remember we only get one chance.
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