Arkham Asylum Harley Novels & Stories

"You and Finn can get a coffee while Harley makes sure this pain isn't anything serious." Amanda Jade refused to go, and I declined to accompany the doctor unless he promised to bring me a coffee from the vending machine at the end of the corridor. But not before he looked Harley in the eyes and declared that he had no qualms about murdering renowned cardiac surgeons. Harley nodded and grinned, as if dealing with death threats was second nature to her. Perhaps it is. Perhaps he's simply a laid-back type of person. I sat on the side of a hospital bed in an empty patient's room a few doors down from the waiting area, legs hanging, the soles of my bare feet bloodied from—

“Long story short, your dad's alive and the Rebels hate him. They're going to use you to get his cooperation - there's probably going to be drugs in the package you're picking up and a score of cops hiding in the bushes to pick you up.” There was silence on the other end. He was obviously trying to process the information. “Get on your bike and drive to the nearest heavily populated place, then call me back.” I cut the call and marched into Harley's bedroom, my feet having a mind of their own. It was neat and tidy, but the decoration of the place was clearly hastily thrown together. Harley wasn't one for feminine frills and nonfunctional frippery. I sat down on the quilted blanket which cove

Yeah, he probably wanted one of his own cigarettes pretty badly right about now. Too bad, so sad. Bastard. The smoke had the benefit of drowning out all the other scents in the car, too, and that alone made my headache recede a bit. The mix of Jack’s fresh, warm, alpha earthiness with Brent’s sharp, cheap-cologne-infused werewolf smell, not to mention the overlay of Hendler’s faint reek, had me nearly crawling out of my own skin. I opened my eyes at the sound of a loud, growly engine. A Harley pulled up by the curb, not turning into the Starbucks lot, but simply idling there. The rider had a full-face helmet on with a tinted visor, and his head had turned our way.

"So these are yers? That's pretty cool. Does your job have an oven like this?" "We have a makeshift one with a UV lighting system we put together ourselves. It does the job nicely, but when we have a special project that we absolutely can't fuck up, we bring it here," Tony said as he motioned to the floor. "And yes, these are the panels to my '93 Harley Ironhead Sportster. Her name's Harley. She got a bit scuffed up when I backed up into a damn Honda. That's ok, though. I've been itchin' for a reason to do a redesign."

Harley suffered from severe cerebral’s palsy. Raymond gripped Harley tight. He washed her panties and changed the sheets. I bit my lip, cracking my knuckles in response to my anxiety. Tears rolled down my cheeks. “It's okay!” Skye patted me. “Arghh!” Harley grumbled in pains. Her legs can't be spread wide as much like a lane man. She had strains and pains. Raymond patted her, he pressed his lips on her cheeks. “Lay your head flat on the pillow! All is well!”

Maybe boxing or karate. Alex's cry of “Ryan wait!" cut through my chest like a hot knife. He was seeing someone else? He was seeing someone else?!! I took the stairs slowly, not wanting the boy to suspect being followed. I came out of the building in time to see him latch his helmet while sitting astride a motorcycle. The perp owned a Harley. Brand New by the looks of it. They didn't come cheap. And neither did the watch on his left hand. Handsome, athletic and rich.