Biker Books Novels & Stories

Two. The lead biker’s front tire exploded. The bike flipped forward, sending the rider flying into a brick wall like a rag doll. The second biker swerved to avoid the wreckage, and I took the opportunity to put three rounds through his chest. He slid across the pavement, sparks flying in a long, bright arc before he disappeared into the dark. I dropped back into the seat, breathing hard. “I think that's the last of them.”

She considered herself extremely fortunate to have the opportunity to talk to him. Miss Admirer: Hey, Hottie Biker! My Hottie Biker: Hi, Miss Admirer. He replied to her with a smiley emoji. Miss Admirer: Today, I saw you going in the car with a girl. My Hottie Biker: You saw me! Seriously, you're my real stalker. She chuckled. Miss Admirer: Where is your bike today? My Hottie biker: You found me travelling by car today because I don't like it if anybody sits on my bike.

Lines of code, bright against the dark. The first bike jolted, then veered sharply, the rider screaming as he flipped over the handlebars and slammed into the asphalt. Another followed, then another, dropping like dominoes. “What the—” My voice cracked. One by one, every biker convulsed, lost control, their machines swerving wildly before exploding into fire or skidding across the road. The smell of burning gasoline filled the air, the sound of shattering bones mixing with the scrape of metal.

Right now, I wanted all the names of the girls and boys living in that town. I needed both genders. From my research, most of the bikers were low-key gay men who wouldn’t come out of the closet but would touch young boys inappropriately. We live in a society where boys are not taken seriously when they talk about being abused or touched in the wrong places. As usual, the parents of these kids would never speak up. A biker was as deadly as a mafia mob. They were crazy gang members who wore vests and rode noisy bikes around town with no authorities to keep them in check. They’d do anything they wanted—sleep with different women, young and old, and men, young and old. They caused noise pollutio

I scoffed, setting my glass down hard on the wood. "You wanted the girls dead, Julian. I gave that to you. Which specific biker gang took them is absolutely none of your business. Whatever extra details I find out during my missions do not concern your office. But..." I paused, holding his gaze. I leaned closer. “If you want to know so much, let me give you a free piece of advice... avoid angering the bikers in this region. Those people contribute heavily to the underground safety of this entire pack. Your royal toy security alone cannot make this territory safe for everyone to stay. Leave them be. Next?"

“You really are determined to destroy everything your father built.” Anger flared through my chest. “You grabbed me.” He tilted his head. “You slapped me verbally in front of half the city.” “That is not the same.” “No,” he agreed calmly. “It isn’t.” He turned to face me. “But what your little biker friend did inside? That is.” A cold knot formed in my stomach. Adrian watched me carefully. “You should know something about men like him,” he said. “What?” “They don’t survive in my world.”

THE BIKER KING CALLS Despite how dangerous the atmosphere of the room felt, dinner was… quiet. Arthur stretched subtly in his seat, looking over at the plates set neatly on the long wooden table stretching through the center of the room. A single overhead light glinted off the rim of his glass as he sipped on his wine. Slowly, he looked around at the plain walls and the men standing at the dark corners of the room. A few had their arms folded, others rested their hands behind their backs. Every time they moved, their leather jackets would lift, revealing guns tucked into waistbands and knives strapped to their thighs. None of them spoke. None moved unless Victor told them to.

Ace explained. "Ok." Lainey agreed. She wanted no part of that. Some of her favorite romance books to read were Biker Romances. She had no idea how real or made up they were. But normally people got their ideas from somewhere, right? They walked through the main room which was oddly clean and spacious. She figured for a bunch of guys it would be dirty and beer cans or bottles everywhere. A lot of the stories she read were like that. But then she remembered, they were all retired military.

“Alpha Jaron. I’m referring him to you. He’s in recovery, unable to walk at the moment. I need you to give him your best as his physical therapist.” I froze mid-breath, the name striking me like a lightning bolt. My pulse quickened involuntarily. “Alpha Jaron?” I whispered, barely loud enough for Marga to hear. Marga’s jaw dropped, and her hand flew to her mouth. “Do you mean the Alpha Jaron? The Biker? The most feared, the handsome Alpha of Steel Fang Pack?” I blinked, the weight of her words settling on me. The Alpha of Steel Fang Pack. The man whose very name commanded fear and respect in the supernatural and human communities alike.