Struck in the Crossfire (BERZERKERS MC Book 1)

by Linny Lawless

  Struck in the Crossfire

  BERZERKERS MC Book #1

  Linny Lawless

  Copyright 2019 by Linny Lawless

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, brands, and incidents are the product of my imagination and used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments, is solely coincidental.

  This book contains mature content and is intended for adults 18+ only.

  Models: Joe and Erica Worden

  Photography: FuriousFotog

  Cover Design: Charli Childs, Cosmic Letterz Design Cover Design

  Editing: Courtney Lynn Rose, Full Bloom Editorial

  Proofreading: Mitzi Carroll

  Personal Assistants: Mikki Thomas and Kristin Youngblood

  Formatting: Brynn Burke, Knox Publishing

  Created with Vellum

  Merriam Webster Dictionary

  Berserk— Noun

  1: an ancient Scandinavian warrior frenzied in battle and held to be invulnerable

  2: one whose actions are recklessly defiant

  To James Leverton

  Rest in peace, my Viking friend.

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank you to:

  My beta readers—Jeanette George, Courtnay Gray, and JoJo Ellen

  My kick-ass PAs—Mikki Thomas and Kristin Youngblood

  Joe Worden—for answering my weird questions I asked you on chat. – “Hey Joe, how do you kill a man using your bare hands?”

  Linny Lawless on Social Media

  Website: https://linnylawless.com

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  Playlist

  Wanted Dead Or Alive | Bon Jovi

  Gypsy Road | Cinderella

  Nobody’s Fool | Cinderella

  Shake Me | Cinderella

  She Sells Sanctuary | The Cult

  Love Bites | Def Leppard

  Close My Eyes Forever | Lita Ford and Ozzy Osbourne

  Every Rose Has Its Thorn | Poison

  Crazy | Alanis Morissette

  Purple Rain | Prince

  We’re No Good Together | Tesla

  I Remember You | Skid Row

  Nothing Compares 2 You | Sinead O’Connor

  Eyes Without A Face | Billy Idol

  Flesh for Fantasy | Bill Idol

  Dancing with Myself | Billy Idol

  White Wedding | Billy Idol

  Comfortably Numb | Pink Floyd

  Hysteria | Def Leppard

  Author’s Note

  The setting of this story is the mid-1980s, before cell phones, texting, the internet, social media, and flat screen TVs. The world of MTV, when music was listened to on cassette tapes, and pagers and pay phones were the quickest way to communicate, other than handwritten letters. The decade when bikers rode shovelheads, panheads, and knuckleheads. When mainstream society saw the man with long hair, covered in tattoos, and riding a Harley as the one percenter, the outlaw.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Stryker

  2. Izzy

  3. Stryker

  4. Izzy

  5. Stryker

  6. Izzy

  7. Stryker

  8. Izzy

  9. Stryker

  10. Izzy

  11. Stryker

  12. Izzy

  13. Stryker

  14. Izzy

  15. Stryker

  16. Izzy

  17. Stryker

  18. Izzy

  19. Stryker

  20. Izzy

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  The Berzerkers MC did business in the filthy rich drug trade, but what we were notorious for was the illegal underground fighting and gambling business. We rubbed shoulders with the most corrupt businessmen and organized criminals in the mid-Atlantic area.

  Fights were organized between the club and those rich heathens and held in an old warehouse located in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. Other clubs and their chapters entered their best fighters against one of our best fighters.

  The man on the other side of the warehouse was called our opponent. But we saw him as our enemy. Everyone who breathed or walked were our enemies. Kage was both a brutal but smart fighter. He was lethal, beating his opponents close to death. As President, he didn’t even have to fight, but he did because he needed an outlet for all his pent-up anger. He was smart and not only used his body, but his head using technique against his enemies—elbow strikes, kicks, and chokeholds, cutting off blood flow to the loser’s brain.

  Our club held church in the Berzerker bunker—an old abandoned underground bomb shelter built because of the Cold War in the 1950s during America’s fear of the Soviet Union. It sported 1,000 square feet of space for room to hold church and other rooms to sleep, with a few cots, and another room used for interrogating, torturing, or killing.

  We had the money, reputation, power, and of course, all the pussy we wanted. It was sucking and fucking galore in the Berzerker bunker, especially after a good fight. Club whores were like groupies waiting backstage at a Motley Crue concert. They jumped at the chance to suck us off or get fucked in the ass by one of the Donovan brothers or any Berzerker, for that matter.

  The room smelled of cigarettes and weed as fifteen greasy, bearded, foul-mouthed men cussed, grumbled, snarled, and barked about getting vengeance and retribution for what the Soul Takers MC had done to our Berzerker brother and his ol’ lady. Kage, club President, sat at the head of the long table and I sat at his right, where the Vice President belonged. Grim, our Sergeant-at-Arms, sat across from me, to Kage’s left.

  Glass and plastic ashtrays bounced as Kage pounded the old wooden gavel on the long table. The room went quiet as Kage smashed his cigarette out in an ashtray. “I’ll go berserk on that motherfucker Wraith, and kill him with my bare hands. Then the Soul Takers patch over into the Berzerkers MC.”

  “What’s your plan brother?” I asked

  “We don’t run an underground fighting ring for nothing. One fight. Me and Wraith. He’s not getting out alive.”

  “Fuck that!” Ajax barked. “They beat Dodge half to death and raped his ol' lady to madness. Let’s kill 'em all!"

  The other club members jeered and growled as they pounded the table in agreement.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Kage barked back, leaning back in his chair. “We take their patch, take their bikes, and fuck their club whores! Destroy them! Anyone left alive won’t get patched over that fucking easy. We only take in the ones we want as Berzerkers, and they prospect for a year before even getting fully patched.

  “This isn’t a club vote. This is my decision as Prez of this chapter.” He banged the gavel. “Grim will send word out to Wraith tomorrow, and the fight will happen in two days.”

  Grim fidgeted, running a hand through his hair and sniffling because he always got high on a few lines of coke before church. He nodded to Kage. “I’m on it, Prez.”

  Kage slammed the gavel down again. “Church is done for tonight, my Berzerker brothers.”

  I rose from my chair, but Kage turned to me. “Stay, Stryker. Need to bounce something off you.”

  The room got quiet with just Kage and me. I lit a cigarette using my fav
orite Zippo and flipped the lid open to closed, and open again. “What do you want to bounce, brother?”

  He leaned back, tatted arms across his chest. “Since I found Sadie, I see things differently. I’m different. And now she’s having my baby. I’m done with it all. No more fighting, no more killing, no more blood.”

  “You’re vulnerable now, brother. Our enemies will see this as a weakness. They’ll all come for us.”

  “That won’t happen. Not with you sitting in this chair, holding the gavel, brother. I’m giving you the Prez patch. I’m giving all of this to you. After I kill Wraith.”

  I pounded my fists on the table. “I’m not fucking ready to be Prez!”

  He grinned. “Yes, you are, Stryker. I’m your older brother. I’ve protected you, taught you how to fight. Hell, I even got you laid the first fuckin’ time! Now, it’s my time. In this fucked up, outlaw life we live, I found a sweet woman who actually loves a bad guy like me. And now, she’s having my baby. I’ve never been afraid to fight or kill. But I’m scared to fucking death about being a father.”

  Pent-up anger caused my blood’s temperature to rise. For the first time ever, I felt anger toward my older brother. Kage wanted to hand me the gavel and make me President of the Berzerkers MC. He chose Sadie over the club.

  I rode my panhead full throttle to a local titty bar to meet up with Rubik. He was already into his fourth shot of whiskey, sitting in a booth in the sleazy bar. The chicks dancing on the little stages were clad in only G-strings.

  I got myself a glass of whiskey and walked over to Rubik’s booth. A blonde chick was bent over, riding and grinding his lap. I stood so that my crotch was eye level to her as she flipped her hair and looked up at me.

  Rubik chuckled. “She’ll suck you off, but you gotta pay her first, Stryker.”

  The chick bit her bottom lip as she stood and then smiled.

  “Go wiggle your ass and tits back up on stage, darlin’.” I slapped her ass as she walked away.

  Sliding into the booth across from Rubik, I lit a cigarette. He leaned back and crossed his massive biceps over his chest. “You look pissed as fuck!”

  I took a drag and exhaled. “Kage wants to hand the gavel over to me, give me the Prez patch.”

  “I knew that was coming.”

  I slammed my balled-up fist on the table. “He’s making us vulnerable to our enemies, and brother, we have a fuck-ton of them!”

  Rubik grumbled. “Yeah. Not gonna argue that. But, nothing we say is going to change Kage’s decision.” He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table. “And my sister is pregnant now. The Berzerkers need to protect them. It’s your turn now, Stryker. Wearing the Pres patch is your fate; it’s in your blood.”

  Rubik was right. We lived as the one-percenter, the outlaw. But, I wasn’t ready to be President. I was Kage’s shadow, his younger brother. I would bleed for him, even die for him.

  “I’m not ready.”

  Rubik shook his head. “When are we ever fucking ready? I doubt they’re ready to be parents, for Christ’s sake! We always have to watch our backs, brother. Now you gotta step up. Lead the club just as Kage did. And protect them.”

  I leaned back, downing the glass of whiskey, before smashing my cigarette out in the ashtray and climbing out of the booth. “Kage took Sadie up to the cabin yesterday. You’re riding up there with me to tell them I’m handing my VP patch to you. No one else in the club deserves it more than you do.”

  The back tires of our bikes fishtailed in the muddy driveway toward the cabin. It was pouring down rain as Rubik and I climbed off the bikes. It was like a quick, powerful punch to my gut as I walked up the steps to the front door that was ajar—the doorknob blown off.

  Rubik was right behind me as we pulled out our revolvers from the inside pockets of our rags and stepped inside.

  “Sadie!” Rubik rushed past me, landing on his knees next to her body. Blood pooled from the side of her head and puddled on the hardwood floor.

  My eyes pivoted to the right. Kage sat in a chair. His arms bound behind him and tied to the back of it, his head slumped to the side. His face was covered in blood, his eyes open as he stared at nothing.

  Rubik roared, howling like an injured animal as I knelt down and pulled him to me.

  I untied Kage from the chair, covering him in a sheet. Rubik wrapped Sadie’s body in another sheet, and we carried them out back. Fifty yards away, we buried them in the wet earth.

  1

  Stryker

  The fighting pit in the basement beneath Durango’s Bar smelled of sweaty bikers, blood, and weed. Just like prison. I stood shoulder to shoulder with my club brothers in the dark, dank basement. Only a few ceiling lamps illuminated the fight pit as other clubs stood together in groups along with a few club mamas and club whores.

  It was fight night, and bets were placed on the two contenders—Brute from Riot MC and Ajax from my club. He was one of my best soldiers and stood in as Acting VP. He was a mean son of a bitch and one of my best fighters too. His hands were taped, and he paced back and forth, like a caged panther. He rolled his neck and shoulders, breathing deeply as his nostrils flared.

  I stood toe-to-toe with him and gripped his sweaty, broad shoulders. “You ready to kill? Or be killed?”

  He was focused, his eyes glued to mine. “I’m ready to kill, and kill again, Prez!”

  I looked Ajax’s opponent over, standing with his Riot brothers on the other side of the fight pit—Brute was bulky and weighed a bit more than Ajax—as he cracked his neck side to side, his eyes wide. But big men fall hard, and Ajax was quick and lethal, just the way we trained him to be.

  Cullen, one of the main capos in the organized crime circuit in Baltimore, and some of his business partners were there to watch and place their bets. I owed everything to Cullen. He got me out of that shithole prison after I was taken in by the feds and convicted of RICO so I could take over as Prez of the Berzerkers MC. My club. Cullen liked his money, and he worked with the Berzerkers in the drug business and underground fighting, making us rich fucking fools.

  Cullen’s main squeeze for the night, a redhead in a fur coat, rang the old, rusty boxing bell and the fight was on. Jeers and taunts bounced off the brick walls as both fighters raised their fists, circling each other. Ajax dominated the fight, as it only lasted three rounds. He made sure he maintained his comfortable circle of depth in front of him, throwing a few punches and jabs to Brute’s head and kidneys.

  Brute was getting pissed and frustrated, landing a few blows to Ajax’s jaw, but Ajax kept at him too. When Brute tried to slide to the right or left of him, Ajax cut him off. Soon, Ajax was in a rhythm, making Brute overcompensate and throw punches that made him off balance.

  Ajax leveraged Brute’s own weight against him. After a while, Brute was tired and frustrated, and Ajax threw all his weight into the Riot fighter, taking him down to the dirty cement floor. Jeers went up as Ajax sat on him, pounding his fists into the man’s face and head. It was over a few seconds later with Brute knocked out cold, his face a bloody mess.

  Shouting, cheers, and growls reverberated throughout the vast basement as I pulled Ajax off Brute and raised his arm. I looked over at Cullen. He grinned and nodded his head. “The Berzerker wins!”

  Cullen and his redhead stood with me, my Treasurer, Tug, and Squatch, my Sergeant-at-Arms, along with Jeb, the owner of Durango’s. I trusted no one, only my club brothers. I could read body language well, and within seconds, I knew Jeb was as slimy as they came. He was the kind of guy that always looked dirty, even if he just stepped out of a fucking shower.

  He was salivating at the mouth as he looked down at stacks of cash, our winnings from the fight sitting on a table in the basement.

  Cullen snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Hey! You got the combo for Stryker?”

  I sensed Jeb’s fear. I could smell it on him from where I stood. He wiped his forearm across his nose, high on the last bump of coke he snorted. “Yeah. I g
ot the combo.”

  He handed me a folded-up piece of paper. “Don’t give it to me, asshole. Give it to Tug.”

  The safe was in the back room upstairs in the bar. My club planned on riding home about twenty miles to our town outside of Baltimore in the morning and this safe was where we planned to stash the twenty-five grand.

  My thoughts wandered, remembering the last time I talked my VP, Rubik, a month before. We sat together, just us, in the Berzerker bunker when he told me he wanted to go Nomad.

  “Are you sure this is what you want, brother?”

  Rubik leaned back, crossing his burly, tatted arms across his chest and slid his VP patch across the table to me. “Yeah, Stryker. Everything around here reminds me of Sadie. Going Nomad is something I gotta do. I need to put some miles between me and this place. Get my head straight.”

  We stood, and I embraced him like I used to do with Kage before he was killed. “This club needs you, Rubik. Come back to us when you’re ready. Stay alive, and ride hardcore, my Berzerker brother.”

  Rubik also gave me his bottom rocker patch, which read “Maryland” and I gave him a Nomad patch to replace it on his rags. He climbed the stairs of the bunker, and even from underground, I heard his shovelhead roar to life, and he rode off.