Aces And Eights Motorcycle Ride Novels & Stories

she asked, positioning herself behind the solid wood of the porch railing where she'd have cover and a clear view of the approaching riders. "We're about to find out," Jax replied, though his stance relaxed slightly as the lead bike came into view. "It's Ghost. But he's not alone, and he didn't call ahead." The motorcycles roared into their peaceful clearing like a invasion force, engines cutting out in unison as six men dismounted. Ghost led the group, his pale face grim, while behind him came faces Raven recognized from their war days—Diesel, Viper, Hawk, and two newer prospects she didn't know.

Vomit spilled through the gaps in the wire mesh and fell into the sea. The winch restarted and pulled the cage back to the 50th floor. Anisa curled up in the corner, her whole body twitching. Floyd picked up a walkie-talkie. His voice came through the speaker and reached clearly into the cage. "Even an old man could handle this ride, so why is a VIP like you throwing up? Let's do it again." The second drop began. This time, it accelerated even more. The instant the cage stopped, Anisa's head slammed into the iron railing, tearing open the skin around her eye socket.

Alexander’s motorbike was right where he’d left it, gleaming wet under the moonlight. He swung his leg over and kicked it to life. The engine roared like a beast in the quiet night. “Get on,” he ordered. I hesitated half a second, getting on that bike with him meant crossing every line I had left, no going back, no pretending this was just a moment of weakness. Father’s distant shouting carried on the wind. I climbed on behind him, wrapping my arms tight around his waist, pressing my cheek to his wet leather jacket. The bike shot forward, tires spraying gravel as we tore away from the church and down the narrow lane toward the edge of the village.