CROSSING THE LINE

by Lawless, Linny

  Contents

  Crossing The Line

  A Note From Linny

  Character Introductions

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Also by Linny

  About the Author

  CROSSING THE LINE

  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.

  Stock Cover Photo

  Cover Design by Ravenwill Designs

  Editing and Proofreading by Mitzi Carroll

  Interior Design by Clara Stone of Reader Central

  Personal Assistants: Mikki Thomas and Kristin Youngblood

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without written permission.

  Purchase only authorized editions. Thank you for respecting the author's work and not supporting or encouraging piracy. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at linnylawless@gmail.com

  Bear and his club, Hellion MC are in a bloody war with their enemy – the Cutthroats MC. They decide to patch over with the Berzerkers MC to strengthen their numbers and take down their enemy. Before the pact is made, Bear runs into Holly. She’s naïve and pure - a breath of fresh air to a dangerous man like him. And she’s off limits since her brother, Diezel, is the Berzerkers President. But Bear crosses that line and claims Holly for himself, even if Diezel wants me dead.

  Part of the Printed Paperback:

  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.

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend…”

  Ancient Proverb

  Hellion MC, Petersburg Chapter

  Cain – President

  Rex – Vice President

  Bear – Sgt. at Arms

  Berzerkers MC – Richmond, VA Chapter

  Diezel – President

  Jagger – Vice President

  Mace – Sgt. at Arms

  Berzerkers MC – Baltimore, MD Chapter

  Stryker – President

  Rubik – Vice President

  Squatch – Sgt. at Arms

  I lived with my mama and pops, in a small town called Oakwood, right on the outskirts of Richmond, Virginia. They owned a small general store, McCrae’s that was handed down from my great grandfather on my father’s side of the family. I loved my parents, and they were always good to me. I helped them at the general store since I was in high school.

  My brother, on the other hand, was the one who was sometimes a bane to my father. He was five years older than me, the black sheep, getting into fights in school with other boys. He was very protective of me ever since I was a little girl. Everyone in our town and around Richmond knew my brother, Duncan, or Diezel as he was called by his club. He was the President of the Berserkers, MC. But not many knew I was his baby sister, and I was good with keeping it that way. He shielded me from his life in the club and from his “brothers.”

  I was twenty-five and a grown woman. I needed to live my life and date nice guys, but it wasn’t easy when Duncan acted as if he had any say in who I dated or what I did.

  It was a hot and muggy Sunday morning when I slammed the yellow telephone receiver back on the base on the kitchen wall. I was dumped again. This time it was Jimmy, another nice guy whom I’d only been dating for a month. I should have known the night before when he stood me up for our date. I called him that morning before I headed in to open the store.

  “You’re a happenin’, babe, real cool…but…well…” Jimmy’s voice sounded strained.

  “But well what, Jimmy?” I gripped the phone receiver tightly with anxiety.

  “Your brother Diezel. You never told me he was the President of the Berserkers MC!”

  I groaned. “Yeah, well, you never asked. What did my dear brother say to you?”

  “Not much, only that if he saw me with you, he’s going to cut my damn balls off!”

  Damn, Duncan! Hell! He used that same threat on the last guy I dated a year ago. “My brother is a jerk. It’s just a scare tactic—"

  “Scare tactic, my ass! He’s in a bike gang, he’s an outlaw. No thanks, Holly. I want to keep my balls. Goodbye.”

  * * *

  My parents drove to Louisville, Kentucky the day before for my Uncle Gordy’s funeral and they depended on me to open, close, and run the store by myself for a week. I was already riled up by late morning when I got to the general store, and the AC unit in the window behind the counter was on the fritz again. I was covered in a sheen of sweat by the time I opened the store, and the humidity did wonders to my blonde wavy hair, encrusted with a good dose of Aqua Net hairspray.

  I leaned down and planted my elbows on the counter next to the cash register, feeling a bit of relief from a small fan to cool me down. And that’s when he walked in. The bearded man had broad shoulders and was as tall as a giant bear. He wore a black tank top; his biceps were like boulders and were covered with intricate tattoo designs. There was even a tattoo on his neck, making him appear even more intimidating.

  He sauntered by the counter with arrogant swagger down the refrigerator aisle of sodas and beer. Our eyes met—his were as blue as mine—and he winked. It flustered me in a weird way, so I stood up and turned around, pretending to organize the cigarette shelf. Moments later, I heard the sound of his booted heels coming toward me. I turned around as he placed a six-pack of Budweiser on the counter.

  When he came to a stop on the other side of the counter, his larger-than-life presence consumed the space around us. He pulled out his leather wallet that was hooked on a chain to his jeans, and looked past me to the display of cigarettes behind me. “I’ll take a pack of Marlboro Reds too.”

  His voice was rich and deep, making my throat dry and my nipples hard. I fumbled for the pack of cigarettes and rang them up with the beer. He handed me cash and then I gave him his change.

  He smirked. “Thanks, Blondie.” And snatched up the six back of beer and the cigarettes. My eyes were glued to his ass as he walked out of the store.

  * * *

  That evening was a much-needed girls night out with my friends Emily and Crystal. We took a cab to our favorite weekend dance club in Richmond. I was dressed in a tight black mini-dress and stilettos with one goal in mind—to attract every single male in the club. After drinking a few screwdrivers, the girls and I danced as the disco and strobe lights hypnotized us with the sound of the pounding hip hop music.

  Just before midnight, we left the dance club and walked a few blocks to a quieter setting of an old Irish pub. The place was a hot spot for bikers and was the reason I dragged Emily and Crystal there. If my brother got wind that I was even sitting in the pub, his head would explode.

  The bartender was an older man with long scraggly hair and a beard. He just grunted when he came to our table to serve us our B
lue Hawaiian cocktails. Someone put some coins in the jukebox and picked a few county music songs.

  I sipped on the blue cocktail and opened up to Crystal and Emily about what happened that morning. “This is now the fourth time my warped brother totally ruined another good thing I had with a really nice guy.”

  Crystal rolled her eyes. “What happened this time?”

  “He walked right into the music store that Jimmy works at and threatened him with castration if he ever talked to me again.”

  “Eww!” both of them shouted in unison.

  “I know! Totally lame! I’m sick and tired of him ruining my chances of having a normal relationship and being happy.”

  I sipped on my cocktail again, my eyes scanning the pub and caught sight of the big man who’d come into the store that morning. He sauntered in alone with a confident stride, almost arrogant. Crystal was talking about something, but I couldn’t look away. He walked by our table, and when his eyes pivoted to mine, I suddenly felt a weird quiver in my stomach as I watched him take a seat at the bar.

  Crystal snapped her fingers. “Earth to Holly. You’re spacing out on us.”

  I blinked. “Huh? Oh. Let’s get another drink.”

  Crystal’s eyes steered to the bar to see the big man. Her mouth dropped open, “Oh, he is fine—and tough looking, too!”

  “He came into my store yesterday to buy cigarettes and beer.”

  “He looks dangerous. The kind of guy I bet your brother would totally wig out on if he saw you even within five feet of him.”

  “Yeah. Well, Duncan gets bent out of shape if I’m within eyesight of any man in the city of Richmond.”

  Emily giggled. “He looks like a big caveman. Men like that totally freak me out.”

  Then the idea came to me like a light bulb switching on. I waved the brooding bartender over and asked him to pour the big man at the bar a shot of tequila and to put it on my tab.

  Emily gasped as the bartender walked away.

  All three of us were so obvious as we watched the bartender slide the shot glass to him, then pointed in our direction. Emily giggled. The man looked at me, raised his shot glass, and leaned his head back and downed the shot in one swallow.

  Crystal had a devilish grin on her face and handed me one of her cigarettes. “I triple dog dare you to walk right up to him and ask him for a light.”

  I sipped the rest of my cocktail, the straw making that slurpy sound, then hopped off my barstool. I wiggled my hips to smooth down my tight black dress and flipped my hair, then sashayed my way toward him in my high heels.

  His eyes roamed down my body as I stepped up to the bar beside him, holding out the cigarette. “You got a light?”

  “Yeah.” He seemed annoyed as his brows furrowed. He flipped open a Zippo and lit the end of my cigarette. With my first inhale, I suddenly coughed out the nasty smoke.

  He smirked. “Knew you didn’t smoke. Thanks for the drink. It’d be best for you to turn around and flutter back over to your bimbo friends.”

  His gruff voice sent a tingle straight to my nipples, along with a flush of heat. I was so embarrassed at that moment—the way he just brushed me off like he was swatting a fly away.

  I smashed the cigarette into the ashtray next to his beer and cleared my throat “I made a bet with my bimbo friends that I could get you alone in the women’s bathroom. But I guess you’re not into girls.”

  His big, paw-like hand grasped my arm as I turned to walk away, “You’re a mouthy little chick, and brave too. But one day you might regret picking up on men like me.”

  His big hand was warm on my skin. “You don’t scare me. I’ve been around guys like you.”

  He let go. “Okay, then. I’ll help you win that bet. Go into the bathroom, and I’ll follow you.”

  My heart skipped a beat when I looked over at Crystal and Emily and made my way down the hall to the women’s bathroom. There were only two stalls, and both were empty, thank goodness. I jumped when he entered only a few seconds after me. Even though I was a bit taller in my heels, the man still towered over me as he closed the door and turned the lock.

  I stepped back. He took a few steps toward me. His brow wasn’t furrowed with annoyance anymore. But the look in his eyes were that of a predator ready to pounce on his prey.

  He reached down, unbuckling his belt. “Are ya ready for me, Blondie?”

  My back bumped against the wall, and I couldn’t move. “Wh-What’s your name?” I stammered.

  He stepped even closer and pressed his hands on the wall, blocking me from getting away.

  “Call me Bear.” His voice a deep rumble.

  I squeaked out a high-pitched moan when his mouth clamped onto mine. His tongue pushed through my lips, devouring me. I lost control of my own body and the sexual urge made my arms wrap around his broad shoulders.

  He pushed his hips, and I felt his hardness pressed into my stomach. His hand snaked up into my hair and pulled, his tongue diving deeper into my mouth. I suddenly became afraid and gasped.

  He pulled away and let go of his grip. “You’re scared.”

  I cleared my throat, feeling the blush rising to my cheeks. But I couldn’t speak.

  “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He stepped back. “Wait ten minutes, then leave. Tell your friends you win the bet.”

  He unlocked the door and left.

  I sat at the bar and waited until the little blonde chick came walking out of the bathroom. She went and sat back at her table, avoiding any eye contact with me. The three of them finished their blue colored drinks, paid their tab, and hurried out of the bar. I walked out after, and swung a leg over my shovelhead, and twisted the throttle, burning rubber out of the pub’s parking lot. I was a member of Hellion MC and held the officer rank of Sgt. at Arms. Our center patch was the head of a horned demon. But I left my rags at home back in Petersburg and rode through the city of Richmond on my way for a secret meet with Mace. He was Sgt. at Arms of the Berzerkers MC, Richmond Chapter. And he was also my cousin.

  But the cute little blonde chick had my dick hard and my head all muddled the fuck up. The rush of air pushing against me as I rode helped clear my mind. I planted my boots down and parked the bike next to Mace’s in a dark, vacant parking lot along the bank of the James River. Mace stood, with his back turned, next to some trash dumpsters, taking a piss.

  “You’re fucking late, asshole,” he called out.

  I kicked the stand down, climbed off the bike, and took off my lid. “I’m on time, asshole.”

  I pulled out a rolled up joint and lit it, remembering the blonde again, as she coughed on the first drag of her cigarette.

  Mace approached. “I’ll give you five minutes. I got things to do; bitches to fuck.”

  I took in a nice, long hit off the joint and passed it to Mace. “Need you to talk to Diezel. My Prez, Cain, wants to have a meet.”

  “What the fuck for? The Hellions got their gig in Petersburg. Berzerkers control all of Richmond.”

  He took a deep hit on the joint, burning most of it down and passing it back. “Yeah we have for a long time. But another club is picking a fight with us that’s going to turn into all-out war. They call themselves the Crazed Cutthroats. We call them the Crazed Cunts. Their Prez Axel is trying to push us out. Some of them roughed up a few of our club whores, who push our drugs and sell pussy.”

  “That’s your club’s problem, not ours. I can’t bring this up with Diezel if there’s nothing in it for the Berzerkers, cuz.”

  I dropped the joint, crushing it with my boot. “Cutthroats are sure to move in on Berzerker territory soon, Mace. Cain has a proposition that’ll be good for both Berzerkers and Hellions. Talk to Diezel and let me know if he wants to meet.”

  “Give me a few days.”

  I climbed back on my bike, snapping on my lid and started it back up. “Send me a page. One for yes; 2 for no.”

  I let out the clutch, twisting the throttle and rode back to Petersburg before the sun came up.<
br />
  * * *

  The next day I met with Cain at the Hellion clubhouse, a rusted out deserted warehouse along the Appomattox River. There weren’t many of us compared to other diamond clubs along the East Coast, but Cain liked it that way, easier to control. The Hellions claimed Petersburg as their territory and controlled the drug business, prostitution, and protection for some of the local businesses. Civilians called it extortion, but it was all the same to us.

  Cain sat at the head of the table. Rex, our VP, sat to Cain’s right. As the club’s Sgt. at Arms, I sat across from Rex.

  I relayed all that I said to Mace the night before in Richmond. “He’ll send me a page in the next few days to let me know if the meet is a go or no-go with the Berzerkers.”

  Cain’s jaw clenched as his hands balled into fists. “Couple of Cutthroats knifed our brother, Tom-Cat last night.”

  “Goddammit!”

  “Yeah. Those cunts outnumbered Tom-Cat three to one,” Rex growled, shaking his head.

  “Gotta meet with Diezel soon. Berzerker’s turf will be next if Axel and the Cutthroats finish us off,” Cain said. “And they’ll try to hit Diezel where it hurts first—that little general store, McCrae’s. His family runs it. Sister works there too.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “Does his sister have blonde hair?”

  “Yeah. Name is Holly. Why?”

  I rubbed a hand down my face and groaned. “Fuck me.”

  Rex chuckled. “We got club whores for that.”

  I shook my head. “I ran into her last night on my way to meet up with Mace.”