Welcome To Hell (Ops Warriors #7)

By: Harley McRide


Ops Warriors was the first series I ever wrote, the characters in them are all so important to me. I am very protective of this series, and while there are some things in them that everyone may not like, I truly let my characters tell their own story. When I write, especially these books, I don’t need to think about anything, it’s not hard, or stressful. That being said, I understand as well how attached you have all become. Shady, Harmony, and Freedom are my original Lady Riders, through all the books they have entertained and shown what a real female is made of. These characters have become like my own family, and this book they have attempted to take over a little since they are trying to protect their men. Please have patience while you may not all like what is in these books, you will hopefully understand why it is happening.

Since I started this journey of writing, I have met some of the most amazing women. They have supported me through a lot, especially my recent illness. In January, due to a doctor prescribing me too much Prednisone, I developed Diabetes 2. I was very sick, my blood sugar dangerously high, I lost my sight for a while. It was hard for me since I love to write to suddenly not be able to. But every day I had someone messaging me, asking how I was, or just to make me laugh. I am pretty sure I would have gone crazy if not for this group of women! Michelle and Caroline, you know I love you guys. And the ladies from the Harley, Carson, Wren, and Rayne Group on Facebook! You are forever my friends, and I cherish your support!


There were two things that Rebel ‘Taz’ Maquire knew, one was that she didn’t give two shits about what people thought of her, and two, if anyone voiced their opinion she would shove it up their ass. She learned long ago that it didn’t matter what the fuck happened in life, it was up to you to make it better or be a pussy and curl in a corner and die. Rebel would never give up, ever. Which was why it led her to where she was currently going, the Ops Warriors business—Bitches 2. Rebel had heard a lot about the women who used to work at the original strip club, Bitches, hell, they were legends in San Diego right now. Shady, Freedom, Treat, Rain, all of them were now Lady Riders, which meant one thing to Rebel, she was going to belong again.

Rebel had grown up in an MC Club. Her father, Tegan ‘Chains’ Maquire, the President of the Blood Eagle MC in New Orleans, LA. Her mother, Lindy ‘Snoopy’ Maquire, had been the perfect old lady. Growing up, she had it all, and would still have it all if the Black Hearts MC wouldn’t have destroyed it. She had been the Princess of Blood Eagle and damned if she hadn’t grown into her name. She knew the ins and outs of the MC world since she had witnessed the good and the bad. Her parents’ club had walked the line between legal and illegal. They made their money various different ways, but mostly they made it by gambling, and no not a casino. They were for lack of a better word bookmakers and dealt only with illegal betting. It paid the bills and was still paying the bills for the club, but her father, though still in charge, was doing it alone, her mother was dead. That was why Rebel was in San Diego, she was going to get her revenge, and the Ops were the only way to do it.

It happened when she was sixteen. Rebel was a good name for her because she did like to run wild, but her mom, well…her mom kept her in line. But on the night that her father and his brothers were out on collections, the Black Hearts thought they could come into their compound and take what was theirs, and her mom didn’t let it fucking happen. She lost her life defending the club money, old ladies, and the club children, all who had been left behind at a Cajun boil. The bastards had attacked women and children.

Rebel grimaced as she ran a hand across her stomach. It was her only hesitation when she applied to Bitches 2, would her scars automatically exclude her? Thankfully the answer had been no, especially since her costume covered it, mostly. What it didn’t cover, her tats did. She had gotten them to cover the reminders of that day. Her plan was going to work, it had to because Rebel wasn’t going home until she could tell her dad she had killed the motherfucker she witnessed kill her mother. He was a dead man, she just needed to find the fucker.