Lighting up the biker ki.., p.1
Lighting up the Biker: Kings of Anarchy Novel, page 1
LIGHTING UP THE BIKER
25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS: BIKERS AND MOBSTERS
KINGS OF ANARCHY MOTORCYCLE CLUB
BOOK 2.5
LIBERTY PARKER
CONTENTS
Kings Of Anarchy Mc Code
Club History
East Texas
Acknowledgments
Blurb
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter 1
Girl Two
Chapter 2
Nova
Chapter 3
Nova
Chapter 4
Girl One
Chapter 5
Nova
Chapter 6
Girl Two
Chapter 7
Nova
Chapter 8
Girl One
Chapter 9
Nova
Chapter 10
Girl Two
Chapter 11
Nova
Chapter 12
Girl Two
Chapter 13
Nova
Chapter 14
Girl One
Chapter 15
Nova
Chapter 16
Freyja
Chapter 17
Nova
Chapter 18
Chaney
Chapter 19
Nova
Chapter 20
Freyja
Chapter 21
Nova
Chapter 22
Chaney
Chapter 23
Nova
Chapter 24
Freyja
Chapter 25
Nova
Chapter 26
Chaney
Chapter 27
Nova
Chapter 28
Freyja
Chapter 29
Nova
Chapter 30
Chaney
Chapter 31
Nova
Chapter 32
Freyja
Chapter 33
Nova
Chapter 34
Chaney
Epilogue
25 Days of Christmas
Team Bikers
Team Mobsters
What’s up next for Liberty
Where to find Liberty
Other books by Liberty
COPYRIGHT
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
25 days of Christmas: Bikers & Mobsters
Lighting up the Biker: Kings of Anarchy MC: East Texas Novella
Copyright 2025© Liberty Parker
Published by: Liberty Parker
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from. Liberty Parker, the author / publisher.
This book and its contents are HUMAN generated. NO generative AI was used in any aspect of this book and no entity has permission from the author to utilize the contents of this book to teach AI.
KINGS OF ANARCHY MC CODE
Anarchy - Where the Kings rule in chaos
Respect the Mother Chapter
Your loyalty stays with your patch
Brotherhood above all
Never touch another brother’s ol’ lady
Ride or die, no questions asked
Never back down from a fight
Never let a brother ride solo
Each chapter sets its own damn rules
Motto:
Nobody fucks with the Kings
www.kingsofanarchymc.com
CLUB HISTORY
Kings of Anarchy MC was established in the early 70s. They started patching over other clubs and expanding to more territories by the late 70s/early 80s. Big Daddy is the current Prez of the mother chapter after taking over for his brother Ruckus, who is now deceased.
The Mother Chapter is located in Southern California. Fictional town of Anarchy
The clubhouse is a bank foreclosed mansion that Big Daddy bought some years back—the club has made a lot of money muling drugs for the Mexican Cartel. Big Daddy has an electric chair in his basement that doesn’t work but his enemies don’t know that and it’s often used as a scare tactic when interrogating an enemy.
EAST TEXAS
KOAMC CHARACTERS
President - Riptide
VP - Slayer
Sgt. At Arms - Indiana
Rd. Captain - Renegade
Secretary - Sketch
Treasurer - Kodiak
Enforcer - Icer
Tail Gunner - Rebel
Chaplain - Scripture
Techie - Booker
Medic - Splicer
Member - Shade
Member - Ozzie
Member - Casanova (Nova)
Member - LoneStar
Prospect - Serpent
Prospect - Hazard
Prospect - Sphinx
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special mention to my photographer, model, designer, proofreader, and editor.
Published by Liberty Parker
Proofreading by: Darlene Tallman, Cheryl Hullett, & Tamara Fruge
Editor: Darlene Tallman
Cover designed by Clarice Tan @CT Cover Creations
Photographer: Gigi Hoggard
Model: T.J. Foster
There are so many other people who should be acknowledged, and I know I’m going to miss several, but here we go:
My friends, my family, my tribe… you are the reason I never keep up and keep striving to be the best that I can be.
Last but not least, the ladies of Liberty’s Luscious Ladies… you all inspire me. Thank you for never giving up on me, promoting me, and encouraging me.
I’d also like to take this time to thank Glenna Maynard and Morgan Jane Mitchell for inviting me into the Kings of Anarchy world. Stay tuned for more releases because the things happening within the Kings will blow you away. I also need to give a shout out to E.C. Land and Winter Travers for inventing this amazing world of Bikers and Mobsters that allowed me to expand my Kings into other territories. Every one of them deserves a round of applause.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my friends, family (both blood and the indie community), and readers. Hope you enjoy this spin-off of my Kings of Anarchy Motorcycle Club.
XOXO
~Liberty
BLURB
Talon ‘Casanova (Nova)’ Cruz came by his road name due to the lifestyle he leads outside of the Kings of Anarchy Motorcycle Club. His choices are frowned upon, but he isn’t a man who is readily influenced by the standard, traditional belief systems of others. He loves who he loves and doesn’t let outsiders come between him, his old lady, and his citizen wife.
Rescuing two sisters, known as girl one and girl two when he retrieved them, while on an extraction mission and bringing them home with him wasn’t a hand he thought he’d be dealt in his deck of life cards. He had zero interest in settling down with one woman let alone two. But he became their safety net and they became his lifeline.
They faced a lot of upheaval as the girls learned how to survive outside of the moldy basement they’d been kept in since birth. During that time, where they learned to do things most people take for granted, they chose him as their forever—never letting him balk at the idea they presented to him of the three of them being together for eternity. The girls had been together for the sum of their life in that dark, gloomy cellar and didn’t want to ever be apart.
Together, the three of them forged a family.
But their father, the one who hid their existence from society, doesn't like it when his ‘possessions’ are stolen, he either wants them back or wants to be paid for his treasures. Their father seeks revenge, and it’s up to Nova and his brothers to keep his women safe while eliminating the biggest threat against them.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The beginning of this book takes place before Indiana and Riptide. The timeline will eventually catch up to current times, but I need to tell their backstory first so you see where this union comes into play.
As you keep reading, it’ll all make sense.
Xoxo
~Lib
PROLOGUE
GIRL ONE
Age Unknown
The screams have me cupping my ears as I rock back and forth on my raggedy mat. I can’t stand them, they make my heart hurt and my eyes burn. I pull my bony legs up and bury my head between my knees. So many women have shared my caged space and then they disappear. Here one minute and gone the next. Father is yelling, telling the woman whose belly is big to push. I don’t know why he wants her to do that—it’s not normal and her scream is different this time compared to the others.
I turn up the volume on my show, not able to listen to her cry anymore, tears fall down my face and I’m unable to stop them. “Ten. Let’s count to ten,” Count Von Count summons from the other side of the square box.
“One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten,” I count off,
I’m learning how to read, tell the difference between shapes, understand my colors, and discover how to sing songs. I don’t get to go to school like my friends Laura and Mary who live in the little house on the prairie. I don’t have a dog to play with like the little boy whose best friend is Lassie. Other than Father and his women friends he brings home, I don’t see anybody—I’m all alone. I’m okay with that because I’d rather be by myself than see my father.
He’s not a nice man. He hurts people, including me.
As one program ends, another begins. I solve mysteries with Scooby and Shaggy, I giggle at Alvin, Simon, and Theodore as they get into trouble. When Father’s new friend stops screaming, a new cry echoes in my ears. I tilt my head to the side trying to hear what’s going on in that room. I wish I had super powers and could see through the walls. It happens again so I turn my entire body, keeping my eye on the door.
When the door swings open and Father angrily stomps my way, I begin to tremble. He looks so mad. Did I do something wrong? I think about what I did during the day and can’t find anything that I’ve done that’d have him making his angry face at me.
“Girl,” he growls, sounding like a bear. “I need you to take care of this.” He unlatches the door which has me scuttling backward. I want to defend myself, put my arms over my head so that when he smacks me, it doesn’t make my head ache, but curiosity gets the better of me and I want to see what’s wrapped in that blanket that is making those sounds. “Did you hear me!”
“Y-yes, Father,” I answer, as swiftly as possible because he has on his belt and that thing stings when he uses it on me. It even made me bleed a couple of times. “What is it?”
“Another girl,” he says, his lips turning upside down. “I want a son to carry on my legacy, but these bitches keep breeding other bitches. You and this one are the only two to survive, take care of her or you’ll see the other side of my belt. Understand?”
“I-I don’t know how,” I admit, my lips wobbling.
“Figure it out. I’ll bring you down some milk and a bottle. Wash it between feedings and she’ll survive.”
“Who is she?” I ask as he roughly shoves the tiny baby into my arms.
“She’s your sister. Keep her alive and I’ll give you two meals a day instead of one.”
“Thank you, Father.” Two meals! She must be somebody special for him to make sure I eat twice in one day.
I mimic what I see on the television when it comes to taking care of my sister. She needs me for everything. I don’t sleep much because when I do, she cries. She drinks a lot and the milk jug drains quickly, which makes Father even madder. But if I don’t, she screams and doesn’t stop. He told me he could hear it upstairs and that if I didn’t make it stop, he would. That threat scared me more than the whippings I get.
“I don’t remember you eating that much,” Father grunts. “I fed you three times a day and you survived. Make it stretch or she’ll do without.” He slams the jug on the mini fridge and stomps out of the room, locking the steel door behind him.
“I don’t know what to do, Two,” I say to my sister. “How do I make it stretch and keep you full?”
Knowing if I don’t put the milk away, it’ll spoil, I lay my sister on the mat we share to sleep on and walk over to the mini fridge and place it inside. Scanning the room, my eyes land on the sink. Maybe if I fill it half with water and the rest with milk, I can make it stretch far enough that Father won’t be so angry about having to buy as much as he has been.
“We’ll try that,” I say out loud. “It’s the only thing I can think to do.”
My sister is getting bigger, and she has a lot of accidents that I have to clean up. Babies are stinky. I give her baths seven to eight times a day. Father lets me use the washing machine once a week so I’ve learned how to scrub things in the sink with dish soap, which I’m only supposed to use for her bottles so I hide that I use it for our blankets, so we can use them until I can wash the smell away. It only took one time of him showing me how it works and how to measure the detergent before I got it. He says one day, I’ll be in charge of all the household laundry which means I might earn an extra meal.
Three a day would be a blessing.
From what my shows have told me, it’s important that I eat that many times per day so I can grow. And if I get stronger and prove I can take care of us, maybe I can leave and take my sister with me.
Father always tells me that we’re expensive and one day, when we’re older, he’ll recoup his money—whatever that means. From the moms and dads I’ve watched on my programs, money is earned by working at a job—I could do that and pay him back for what he’s had to spend. I don’t mind, especially if it means we can sleep on a real bed instead of a cushion on the floor.
If that happens, maybe my bones won’t hurt so bad from the chill seeping into them from the floor. I’m always so cold and my back always aches.
When girl two cries, I rush over to her and pick her up. “Shh,” I whisper. “Don’t make Father mad, sister. Are you hungry already? He says we have to conserve your milk, so I’m gonna add water to it. I know it’s not going to taste right, but you have to drink it anyway so your belly gets full. Okay?” She balls up her fists and her face pinches before she pees and poops on me. “Oh, Two. We’re low on soap, you have to stop doing that.”
I know it’s not fair of me to get onto her for going potty, but it’s too soon for me to ask for another bottle of dish soap. I’ll be in big trouble if we run out before his next shopping trip.
“Don’t worry, Two. I’ll figure it out.”
I don’t know how, but somehow, someway, I’ll stretch things further than I already have.
We have to survive so we become adults and can pay Father back.
I’ll earn our freedom if it’s the last thing I do.
Looking down at my sister, I swear to her, “I’ll always take care of you and keep you safe. I’m never going to leave you. It’s you and me against the world.” I just hope these are promises I can keep.
CHAPTER
ONE
GIRL TWO
Years Later
I’m sick again. I can’t stop coughing and my chest burns every time I breathe. My sister, One, kneels over me with a washcloth, swiping it across my forehead.
“You’re burning up, Two,” she whispers, fear for me, for her, fear for how Father will react to this bout of illness showing on her face. “We don’t have a lot of medicine left and Father hasn’t been home for a few days. I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll be alright, One,” I promise her. “I just need to sleep a little bit longer.”
“Okay, you sleep and I’ll do your chores.” My sister is too good to me.
I’ve always been weak and sickly, and she’s always been strong and healthy. I never go without, she sees to it. She puts me before herself. One day, I hope to be like her. I wish I knew what was wrong with me and why I seem to be the only one who’s always running fevers. One thinks it’s because of our environment, but I think it’s because I’m always so sad.
Our chores are minimal. We keep our space as clean as we can, do the laundry that’s piled up on the floor, and every once in a while, we get to go upstairs and teach ourselves how to cook for Father. We’re getting better at it. We’ve taught ourselves how to measure, follow recipes, and gather ingredients. Father promised us that one day, we’ll be able to eat our food at the table. It’s a goal of ours to sit in real chairs instead of the balled up blankets we use to sit on now.
