Struck in the Crossfire (BERZERKERS MC Book 1) Read online

  “I’m not leaving her here alone!”

  “Don’t worry; she’s riding with you. I’ll follow.”

  We followed Stryker up the stairs, and he barked out a few orders to the men he called Ajax and Squatch. The prospect who tried to tear my clothes off sat on a barstool, both his hands holding onto his crotch. His eyes were full of anger as he glared at me.

  It happened so fast I cried out as Stryker kicked the legs of the barstool. The legs snapped, and the prospect went down landing hard on the floor. Stryker reached down, grabbing the front of his vest with both hands and slammed his back against the bar. “You ever touch club property again, I’ll cut your hands and dick off with a butter knife! Understand, prospect?” Stryker snarled an inch from the prospect’s face, and released him.

  Ajax and Squatch chuckled as I hurried past with Marie to follow Stryker outside. He walked over to the bikes parked together and swung his leg over one. He followed close behind my car as I drove back to the trailer park.

  Marie hiccupped and sniffled. This was all so traumatic for her as she sat in the passenger seat. My throat hurt holding back tears as I gripped the steering wheel. “It’s going to be okay, Marie.”

  “Are they going to hurt us, Izzy?”

  I looked into my rearview mirror at Stryker, as he rode his bike close behind. “The man that’s following us on his motorcycle, his name is Stryker, and he’s the leader. We will be safe as long as we stay close to him.”

  We lived only a few miles from Durango’s in a single-wide trailer home. When I opened the front door and hurried Marie inside, Stryker followed after me. He looked like a goddam bull in a china shop walking into my small trailer home.

  Marie rushed down the hallway to her bedroom as Stryker’s eyes surveyed my home. “It’s just you and your sister living here?”

  “Yes.” I started straightening out the Teen Beat magazines Marie left piled up on the coffee table, and then wondered why I was trying to tidy up my home for the barbaric biker.

  Stryker made himself at home as he sat down on my couch, placing the heels of his black boots on my table and crossed his legs.

  I dropped the stack of magazines back on the table and headed down my hallway. “I’m gonna check on Marie and then change my clothes.”

  “You got five minutes!”

  I knocked on Marie’s bedroom door and opened it just a crack. She was already asleep under her thick comforter with pink and blue flowers. I sat on the end of it and smoothed loose hair away from her cheek. Kissing her forehead, I left and went to my room to change out of Stryker’s T-shirt, throwing my torn bra in the trash can.

  I came back to the living room, tossing the T-shirt onto Stryker’s lap. “Thank you.”

  He walked into my small kitchen, taking his rags off and hanging it on the back of a chair at the kitchen table and put his T-shirt back on. “You said your sister is knocked up. Where’s her ole man at?”

  I felt my face turn beet red as I rushed over to the sink and started washing a dirty coffee cup. “She doesn’t have an ole man. . .”

  “Did he skip town?”

  I turned. “She was raped, dammit!” The coffee cup slipped out of my soapy hands. It crashed onto the floor and broke into pieces.

  Fisting my hands into my hair, I broke down and sobbed. Then he was there, standing so close to me. I felt his burly arms wrap around me. “That’s why you tried to steal the cash.”

  I had no memories of being held and comforted by anyone, not even my mother. Being so close to Stryker, even though it was only for a short moment, felt so foreign to me. I sniffled, and we stepped away from each other.

  He cleared his throat, kneeling down to pick up the broken pieces of the coffee cup and tossing it into the trash bin. “So, what do you know how to cook?”

  I wiped away tears and opened the fridge door. “I can cook eggs. And bacon.”

  He pulled out the chair he hung his rags on and sat down. “Prove it.”

  Stryker devoured most of the scrambled eggs and bacon I cooked, leaving some left over for Marie. I hated him and didn’t like how he made himself right at home in my trailer, but then he would do things like leaving some for Marie to eat.

  I cleaned up after him as he got out of the kitchen chair, shrugging his rags back on and headed toward the door. He snatched my keys off the counter and stuffed them into the side pocket.

  “Hey! Why are you taking my keys?”

  “You and your sister are staying put. Gonna go over to Durango’s for a bit. But first, I’m going back to the motel to a shower. Unless you want me to take one here?”

  Our heads turned to the door at the sound of banging. “Open the fuckin’ door, Iz!”

  “Who the fuck is that?” Stryker barked.

  I walked to the door to unlock it. “My mother.”

  When I opened the door, she stormed past me. She looked like she hadn’t taken a shower in a few days. “Stupid bitch!” Then she glared at Stryker. “Who the fuck is he?”

  “I’ll be your worst nightmare if you don’t shut the fuck up!” he growled, his eyes glaring back at her.

  “Don’t yell Kay-Marie is sleeping,” I told her in a low voice.

  “I don’t give a shit!”

  “You can say that again,” I replied, folding my arms in front of me.

  She slapped me hard across the face. Getting hit in the face over the past twelve hours was getting old.

  Stryker moved quickly yet again, shoving my mother with one hand. “Get the fuck outta here and go smoke some more crack. And stay away from here, cunt.”

  That frightened her enough that she hurried to the door. “Good luck with your bitch-in-heat sister!” She cackled as she left, slamming the door shut.

  “With a mother like that, who needs enemies,” Stryker muttered.

  5

  Stryker

  The prison guard unlocked the handcuffs and shoved me down in a chair. I sat across from Warden Kelly’s scarred-up wooden desk. He wore one of his cheap suits; this one was gray. He peered down through his reading glasses at a manila folder with my name on it. “Stryker Donovan. Convicted on two counts of manslaughter. Ten consecutive years here in my state penitentiary.”

  I smirked. “You bring me here to tell me something different than what’s in that folder? Unless there’s a second page to that file, I’m not sure why I’m sitting here.”

  Kelly kept his head down, looking over the frame of his glasses. “If you don’t keep your fucking mouth shut, I’ll throw your hillbilly ass back in your cell! You don’t speak unless I tell you to. Got me, Donovan?”

  The smirk stayed, but I shrugged my shoulders. I figured I could keep my mouth shut to listen to what the warden had to say. It was a brief moment I’d take instead of rotting away each and every minute of my life in that prison cell.

  I’d already served four hundred days. I almost killed an inmate eleven months ago when he tried to jump me in the shower. Guards wheeled him to the infirmary on a stretcher, and he slept in coma dreamland for three months.

  “Today may just be your luckiest, Donovan.” Kelly moved out of his chair and leaned against the desk, folding his arms. “I’ve invested a lot of fucking money in you, so don’t fuck this up.”

  I learned that day that Warden Kelly was making himself filthy rich by setting up fights with an organized crime syndicate. They were all connected with law enforcement and the state’s justice system. And the one man that I was introduced to was Cullen.

  I functioned only on half a fucking cylinder the whole day. I took a shower at the motel and rode to Durango’s. Jeb was kicked off the property, and I sat in the back room in a chair behind the rusty metal desk. I stretched out my legs, planting my boot heels on it.

  Squatch and the prospect rode back to the Berzerker bunker with the cash. Ajax and Tug stood with me in the room, along with Cullen.

  I filled him in on what happened the night before. “So, now this bar and the girls are Berzerker property
.”

  “The girl is foolish, but brave; I’ll give her that,” Cullen said. “But if you’re taking Durango’s, your club needs to watch their backs, Stryker. Sinister Creed MC will find out they weren’t in on last night’s fight or the money. And they think they run this area. They call their Prez RamRod.”

  Ajax smirked. “Yeah? Well, I’ll ram my fist down his fuckin’ throat if his club tries to pull any shit with the Berzerkers.” He had the tenacity of a fucking lion, and I made the right choice to have him by my side as acting VP.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning back in the office chair. “If this RamRod wants to talk, he knows where to find me.”

  Later that afternoon, I rode by Izzy’s trailer to pick her up. I needed her to open and work the bar, just like any other business day at Durango’s. She came out of the trailer wearing goddamn Daisy Duke jeans shorts with nearly half her ass hanging out of them, and some kind of zebra print tank top and a jean jacket.

  She swung her leg over my bike and climbed on behind me like she was born to ride. When the heat of her soft thighs hugged my hips, and I smelled her hair, the front of my jeans felt tight, constricting my hard-on.

  Squatch called up all the Berzerker brothers to hang that night at the bar, to make a presence to any other clubs in the area, marking our territory. I watched over Izzy as she busted that pretty little ass, serving up drinks for my club and the usual barflies that pretty much had their names scratched into the wooden stools they sat on.

  I sat at a table, enjoying a glass of the good whiskey with Squatch, Ajax, and Tug.

  Ajax’s eyes followed Izzy’s ass as she walked over to serve some beers to a group of men playing pool. “You fuck her yet, Stryker?”

  “Not yet. But plan on it tonight.”

  Hoots and snickers erupted from my table as Izzy walked by. She gave me the side-eye, and I winked back.

  “Do you plan on passing her around the club? Cause I’ll take some sloppy seconds.” Ajax had a hard-on for females, so why did I feel like punching him out at that moment?

  “Not sure yet. Along with the pussy, I’ll make her cook, clean, and do other shit that chicks are supposed to do. Then I’ll decide whether I pass her around to all of you fuckin’ savages.”

  Another roar of hoots and chuckles rose up from the table. In truth, they had enough club whores to share—I wanted to keep Izzy all to myself.

  6

  Izzy

  Marie was nauseous and starving when she got out of bed later that afternoon, and it was good to see her eat every last bite of the breakfast Stryker left for her. She licked her fingers after finishing her toast, and a little color came back to her cheeks. After all that happened to us the night before, my gut was full of dread and with guilt too. If only I didn’t get caught stealing the cash, we would’ve been long gone from this hellhole.

  Now, I feared for both of our lives, and all I could do to keep us safe was appease Stryker. I knew if I pissed him off, he would throw Marie and me to his men.

  I paced the trailer nervously and fluttered around straightening up the place as Marie watched soap operas on the TV. Later in the afternoon, I heard the rumble of Stryker’s pipes as he pulled up outside. I hopped on behind him, and we rode to Durango’s. I worked the bar until late, serving all his club members and other customers. By midnight, when Stryker rode me back to the trailer, I was exhausted.

  Stryker grabbed a small duffel bag that he had bungee corded on the bike’s bumper and followed me inside. He dropped the bag and shrugged off his rags, hanging it on the kitchen chair. I walked down the hall, opening Marie’s bedroom door just a crack when he walked past me and into my bedroom. I closed her door and then hurried into my room after him.

  He tossed a pair of handcuffs on the bed and then pulled his T-shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor. He sat on my bed, bouncing on it a few times.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” My voice was louder than I wanted it to be.

  He leaned down, unzipped his boots and kicked them off. He laid down and then crossed his ankles. “Going to sleep.”

  I groaned, turning to leave. I should’ve known he would take ownership of everything, even my bed.

  “No, Izzy. Get back here! I’m not letting you out of my sight. You’re sleeping in this bed with me.”

  I turned back around as he lay there, shirtless, his jeans low, revealing the V line of his hips.

  “And what if I don’t?”

  He raised the handcuffs off the bed with his forefinger. “I let you off the hook for trying to steal from the club, remember? Now, if you don’t lie down on the bed, I’ll have to pick your ass up and put you in it. I haven’t had any sleep for the past twenty-four fucking hours because of that shit you pulled. And I need some sleep. So, what’s it gonna be?”

  I huffed, rolling my eyes as I climbed into bed. I stared up at the ceiling, and the next instant, I felt the sharp pain to my wrist as he slapped on a handcuff.

  He latched the other cuff to his wrist; his eyes glared into mine. “I can’t take the chance that you get out of bed and knocking me over the head with something while I’m sleeping.”

  His body was so close to mine, I could feel his own body heat. It sent tingles to my nipples, and my stomach felt like little butterflies were fluttering inside it.

  “You won’t rape me, will you?”

  He turned off the lamp on my bedside table. “I don’t need to rape a chick to get pussy. So, you have nothing to worry about. Now, get some sleep.”

  I laid still for what felt like hours, listening to his breathing, until my eyes fluttered closed and I finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

  My nipples ached, needing to be touched and I was wet between my thighs. I breathed in a pleasant scent that was all male and wanted to touch myself. I ground my hips against something warm and hard. My eyes fluttered opened to the sound of my own moaning. Then they focused on Stryker’s tattoos and the vast expanse of his chest. My arm was draped over that chest, with my cheek pressed against it. My cheeks flushed with heat when I realized my thigh was also draped over his leg and I was grinding on him and moaning.

  I looked up and gasped. Stryker’s eyes were open as he looked down at me with a smirk. “I’m dying to know what you were dreaming about.”

  I pulled my arm and thigh away from him. “How long have you been awake?”

  He reached into his pocket with his free hand, pulling out the cuff key and unlocked it from my wrist. “Too long. I gotta take a piss.” He climbed out of bed and stomped to my bathroom.

  I sat up in bed, rubbing my wrist where the handcuff chafed it when Marie entered my room.

  Her brows lifted with alarm and fear. “Did Stryker hurt you, Izzy?”

  The toilet flushed as Stryker appeared behind her. She turned around and stepped back from him. “You better not hurt my sister!”

  Stryker snatched her arms as she tried to hit him with her balled up fists. “I didn’t hurt her for fuck sake!” he growled.

  She yanked away from his grasp and climbed into bed. She clung to me and started to cry. I held her tight. “I’m okay, Marie. He didn’t hurt me.” And I hoped he never would.

  Stryker snatched his T-shirt off the floor, pulling it back on and walked out of my room. “Get up and make me some coffee and something to eat.”

  Marie’s cheeks were stained with tears. “Did he put it in you?”

  My throat ached at the fear in her eyes. “No, Marie. He didn’t do that to me. But he’s my boss now, and I have to work for him. Come with me, and I’ll cook us all some breakfast again.”

  She smiled, and her shoulders relaxed. “The eggs and bacon you cooked yesterday were so good.” She climbed out of bed and walked down the hall to the kitchen.

  I followed behind, taking a deep breath and exhaled. I was relieved that Stryker didn’t rape me. But I was mortified when I woke up grinding against his leg. My body betrayed me, as it begged for his touch. And I was full of anxiety
, dreading when night came, and I’d have to lay beside him again.

  7

  Stryker

  Handcuffing Izzy and making her sleep beside me that night was not a good idea. I didn’t realize this until I woke up to her soft, warm body up against me. I had morning wood, and then she started to moan and rub up on my leg, which only made me go from morning wood to raging hard-on.

  But just lying there, watching her breathe steady and whimper felt like a punch to my chest. And I didn’t do what I should’ve done to her in the basement of Durango’s—fuck her brains out. I knew there’d come a time that I had to claim her as my property. That way she’d be off limits and not to be shared with my club. And the only way to do that was fucking her.

  Then her sister, Marie, tried to sock me in the face. I was in a foul fucking mood after that, and it was only eleven in the fucking morning.

  The girls busied themselves in the kitchen, while I took myself a shower. I dried off with one of their clean towels, wrapping it around my hips. I smelled brewed coffee and cooked bacon as I walked into the kitchen area. Izzy was at the stove as Marie busied herself setting the table with plates and forks, even a set for me.

  When Izzy looked up from the pan of frying bacon, she gasped. I chuckled, taking a seat at the table. “This big dumb biker takes showers. And I used your deodorant too.” And I’d smell like fucking flowers all day.

  Marie tilted her head as she looked at me. “You have a lot of tattoos. I like them.” Then she continued to place paper napkins next to the plates on the table. I was good at reading people, but something about Izzy’s sister seemed a bit off.

  Izzy proved herself again, cooking breakfast for the three of us. Afterward, they fluttered around cleaning up around the kitchen. I snatched up the duffel bag stuffed with my clothes that Squatch brought back from the Berzerker bunker. I tossed it on the couch and dropped my towel.