Zeb Blackwell is a broad-shouldered, leather-skinned bull dawg with a weakness for expensive women, fat tire street bikes, and cheap whiskey that knows how to keep a secret.
A founding member of a motorcycle club whose name he refuses to disclose, Zeb has spent the better part of forty years collecting tattoos, questionable acquaintances, and property in places the IRS has never heard of.
He doesn't believe in retirement, speed limits, or explaining himself to anybody. He does, however, believe a gentleman should keep fresh flowers in his sweetheart's house, preferably in a vase as fine as the woman receiving them.
And the Mason jar tucked inside? Zeb considers that a private matter.
Zeb Blackwell is a broad-shouldered, leather-skinned bull dawg with a weakness for expensive women, fat tire street bikes, and cheap whiskey that knows how to keep a secret.
A founding member of a motorcycle club whose name he refuses to disclose, Zeb has spent the better part of forty years collecting tattoos, questionable acquaintances, and property in places the IRS has never heard of.
He doesn't believe in retirement, speed limits, or explaining himself to anybody. He does, however, believe a gentleman should keep fresh flowers in his sweetheart's house, preferably in a vase as fine as the woman receiving them.
And the Mason jar tucked inside? Zeb considers that a private matter.
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