Batman Arkham Asylum Harley Novels & Stories

"You have been cooped up inside this concrete compound for days now. I thought you might really need some fresh air to clear your head." He led me out through the back door and into the bright sunlight of the yard, walking toward the long line of shiny motorcycles parked against the wall. His bike was completely unmistakable—it was a massive, heavy black Harley-Davidson motorcycle with bright chrome details that caught the sunlight and a large Iron Reapers skull painted right onto the fuel tank. He reached over, grabbed a black helmet from the handlebars, and handed it to me. Then, he stepped closer and helped me strap it tightly under my chin, his large, tattooed fingers moving with careful

(Nakesha POV) When I finally get to the place, I realize maybe this was a big mistake. The house should had given me the idea that I should go. It was a large mansion, but it looked like it would be the idea place for a vampire. It was dark and gothic but for some strange reason I was drown to the place. My head wasn’t hurting, but I feel like something is going on with it. I parked my Harley with all the other bikes. That of course were mostly Harley believe it or not. There were a lot of road kings, one or two fat boys, and on knuckle head, but no other sporter like mine. I wasn’t too surprised because my Harley are either mostly for female or shorter guys. There might be some who just lik

"I didn’t know you’d be here. Why are you so dirty?” I look at my shirt and realize I’m covered in debris from our little demolition session. “I was helping Jack with his plans.” Harley comes to have a look at the changes we’ve made and points to my calculations. “You’re an engineer?” “And architect.” “No shit?” Harley puts her helmet down, takes off her gloves and jacket. She catches me watching her and looks away, as if pretending to look around. “Is there something wrong with your bike?” “What? Oh, there’s a leak in the fuel line. I’m going to have to walk it home.” She says like it’s no big deal.

It had a chequered front strap, double diamond grips, stainless steel and engraved frame, polished gold finish of the Wilson Combat Classic Super grade handgun. Eden had seen it in Malakai's hands multiple times and absolutely loved it. In all honesty, she was just taking it now to piss Malakai off, and trust me, it worked. Malakai was fuming, Eden was going to be a lot to handle, he could already tell. He knew she would not be easy to control, and that was an understatement. Eden had become one of his best too. By the time Malakai reached his office, Eden was long gone.

‘You’re a brave woman… O might add, you’re much braver than me when it comes to upset Alain. Stifling a groan, Harley dredged up a smile and accepted a cup of foamy cappuccino from the butler. The last thing she needed right now was the additional stimulation of caffeine, she thought gloomily as she watched Armel drain his cup in two gulps before he crossed to the bar and poured himself a cognac. “Would you like a nightcap with your coffee?” he asked her. “Oh, no, thank you,” she replied hastily. What she needed was something to knock her senseless for the next twelve hours and prevent her disturbing fantasies about Armel, but, although getting blind drunk was tempting, Harley decided that h

I wasn't supposed to hear her voice in my head in the bathroom. After the bathroom business and changing into a casual black sweatpants and black tee, I jogged to the living room where Harley sitted on one of the couch, her laptop on the seat, her phone in her right hand, a bottle of yoghurt in the second hand and her eyes glued to the TV. "Is Henry not back yet?" I asked, getting Harley's attention for a split second. "You know he is" She drank from the bottle of yoghurt "He's in his room, probably watching p**n"

"This is Addie. My best friend and sister-in-law." "Nice to meet you." Talia replied. "Yeah, same here. Paris is right, the guys are going to freak!" Addie replied. Viper, Cage, Steel, Bishop, Joker, Diego, and a couple other brothers pulled into the parking lot of the club. They parked their bikes and got off. Totally shocked at the motorcycle parked there. No one recognized it. The only thing they could tell was it was a woman's bike. It was a Harley, and it was black and dark purple with chrome. They hadn't seen anything like it. It was obviously a custom job and no doubt a very expensive one. A few of the guys whistled.

Just chrome and steel and the kind of noise that made coyotes scatter. Beth stood in the doorway, frozen. Her father led the pack—black Harley, matte finish, club patch stitched into his cut like a second skin. Behind him rode the VP, lean and sharp-eyed, and the enforcer, a mountain of a man with knuckles like brass and a stare that could crack concrete. Beth’s mom rode pillion, arms wrapped around her husband, her face carved from worry and fire. They didn’t park. They prowled. The bikes lined up like a wall of iron.

I retorted, matching my tone to hers. She huffed and crossed her arms over the too-white duvet, flexing her fists so the lettering across her knuckles stretched. Love and hate both got distorted. ‘Huh, sounds like your messed-up brain, buddy,’ said Knight. ‘Don’t act like yours is any better,’ I shot back. He held up his paws. ‘Can’t argue with that.’ “Some bastard poisoned me, all right?” said Harley, fixing her gaze on the linoleum floor. “I don’t know who it was or how they did it. Now Nova’s got the whole pack on lockdown while she tries to find the little bitch who did it.”

He’s been my little wingman through all of this. I scan the crowd again and spot the red and black. Of course Alice is Harley Quinn. I smile to myself as I walk over and look her up and down. She’s got on the classic Harley costume. Not the new one from Suicide Squad, but the black and red jester outfit that hugs her lush full curves in all the right places and makes my mouth water. Her hair is down, and the dark curls frame her face. She’s not wearing her glasses, and her eye makeup is heavy. She looks like a nerd's wet dream, and I’m having a hard time walking a straight line to her.