A novel featuring Treb Lincoln and others from A Brotherhood Of Outlaws. But now Treb is living on a Sailboat, and an explosion in Emerald Bay in Catalina starts he and his friends on an adventure that ends up leading them to Central America and right into the middle of a CIA partnership with the drug cartels.
Excerpt from Emerald Bay
The San Pedro Channel was pretty calm and there were four- to five-foot swells spaced very far apart. It made the 120-foot boat roll a little, but not enough to be uncomfortable. She got up to her cruising speed of 22 knots and settled in, while the partiers did their damnedest to drink the bar dry.
On the aft deck, a bunch of girls were dancing to the music being piped over the speakers, and much to the enjoyment of the guests and crew, a couple of them started to strip. It was normal for them to do since most of them worked at Shipwreck Joey’s back in LA, which was one of the nicer titty flop bars.
Matt was the bouncer at Joey’s, and he was acting as master of ceremonies and wardrobe assistant. As the girls would take off a piece of clothing, they’d hand it to him. He would smile and then throw it over the side. A trail of clothes followed the boat almost
all the way to Catalina.
On the bow, Treb, Dick, and Rom passed a bottle of Southern Comfort and a joint.
“Well, Bro, you gonna miss this kind of life or what?” Rom asked.
“Why should I miss it?” Dick looked at him hard.
“In case you didn’t notice, you’re getting old and you just got married.”
“Who you calling old?” Treb smiled. “I ain’t no older than you, and I can kick your ass just like always.”
Dick started laughing and passed the joint.
Treb saying he could kick his ass had always been a standing joke. When it came to fighting, there was no one who could beat Dick.
Dick Bondano and Treb had met 13 years earlier in a bar fight in Las Vegas. Treb had come into this small bar just off the strip while he was riding across country. About five or six very large truckers had decided they wanted to see if this big biker could handle a whipping, so they jumped him. and he relished the idea of a real kick-ass brawl. He watched as three truckers took turns on the big man, and soon he could see the biker really didn’t need much help, but he wanted in, so he jumped in with both feet.
At six feet and 180 pounds, Dick wasn’t all that large, but his Hawaiian ancestry gave him a mean look, and he was wiry as hell. Besides that, he had been raised in a martial arts family.
His father, his grandfather, and all of his uncles were Masters in Filipino Kali, the ancient art of weaponry. Dick had been trained since childhood in Kali and Jeet Kune Do. He had worked as an instructor at Bruce Lee’s old school, the Jeet Kune Do Academy, and until Vietnam, martial arts were his life.
After all the killing in Nam, he decided to opt for a little less violent occupation and ended up in Las Vegas working as a guard at a chemical company.
As he waded into the fight beside the large biker on that day 13 years ago, his life changed.
Ever since then, they had been inseparable friends. They rode around the country for awhile and then settled in the South Bay area of Los Angeles.
