Biker Books Novels & Stories

He took one look at the man who leaned against the wall in his office with his arms folded across his black leather biker vest and sighed. This man who had visited his office multiple times since dropping off the acquired junkie had been quite an interesting new arrival. There were reports of unruly bikers for quite some time coming toward the area but Sheriff Tillman never bothered with them as he knew what it took to make the law go around in Temperance county. "Nothing's changed about the prisoner I hope, Mr...." began Sheriff Tillman. "Just call me Brick." replied the seemingly impatient biker. "Just want to know where you are shipping the bummy bastard, not taking any chances of him try

He touched it with a gentleness I hadn't seen him show to anything else. By the time dusk rolled in, I couldn’t stay cooped up anymore. The walls of the room felt like they were pressing in. I slipped out and wandered through the dimly lit hallways of the clubhouse. Most of the bikers ignored me, their attention on card games or greasy food. Some stared, curious but silent, their eyes following me like shadows. I heard whispers, hushed tones that carried through the smoke-filled air. About “the girl Reaper brought in.” About me being “another broken bird.”

Clearly, Jax's claws and fangs had done brutal work. I felt a wave of satisfaction as I saw ripped throats and blood pools on the snow. The third biker lay on the snow-covered ground nearby. He clutched his gut. Blood pumped between his fingers. His face had gone pale. Jax glared at the biker. "Who sent you?" The biker coughed. Blood bubbled on his lips. “Fuck you. You… and the witch…You won’t expect what’s coming." "What does that me?"

Like it was built to keep people out. As we walk, I notice the others. Men scattered along the grounds, some near motorcycles parked in neat rows. The sound of an engine roars in the distance, and I turn to see a group of riders speed past the gates. Black leather jackets, helmets, the glint of chrome. My chest tightens. A biker gang. I don’t need anyone to explain it to me. The signs are all here. The mansion. The heavy security. The bikes. This client is definitely not a regular person.

“What’s your name?” He hesitates, like he’s deciding whether I’m allowed to know it. “Jude.” “Nice name,” I lie without blinking. The corner of his mouth twitches. Is that… a smile? I keep going. “So, Jude. This Reaper of yours. Your boss?” He tilts his head instead of answering. Then I see it. The motorcycle. My stomach tightens and I rub my wrist again. Motorbikes have always meant bad things for me. Broken doors. Raised voices. Leather jackets and fear. Last night, the alcohol made me brave. This morning, the nightmares reminded me who I really am.

“I used to think you were at the beginning.” “You want that punch?” “I’m saying…” I moved to my seat. It wobbled. Or I wobbled. Who knows? “I’m saying this was a bikers club. It wasn’t really family. Buggy and I just needed a roof over our heads and I was tired of being hunted down by the police—” “Because you were hacking into bank accounts and stealing money.”

"It is everywhere. Simultaneous raids across seventeen states. Every major independent club. All being arrested for weapons trafficking, narcotics distribution, money laundering." Subject Seven moved to the window. "This is not coincidence. This is coordinated elimination. The boy is using federal law enforcement to dismantle every organization that could provide resistance." "Why bikers specifically?" Rebecca demanded. "Why target clubs?" "Because you are organized. Mobile. Independent of government oversight. You have communication networks that bypass standard surveillance. You have resources and loyalty structures that make you dangerous to centralized control." I pulled up my own phone.

"That's some serious stakes. Alright. My boys will hold the stairwell. Keep Reeves's people and those crazy experiment things off your back. You get what you need. Then we all get the hell out. Deal?" "Deal." The bikers positioned themselves. Creating a defensive perimeter. They looked ridiculous. Motorcycle gang in a high-tech facility. But they moved with military precision. These were not random criminals. These were soldiers. Organized. Disciplined. "Where did you learn combat tactics?" Damien asked Garrett.

I knew the lifestyle they had, I loved it also furthermore I have actually dated bikers before and I think I can say, I understood the rules of it. Something about these particular bikers was very different though, It wasn’t just a bunch of dumb kids having fun rather It was something much more than that especially because the sex was mind-blowing and the time I spent with them all outside of the bedroom had great weight and I trusted them with some pretty intimate details of my life also including the good, bad, and ugly then most importantly, I have shared my dreams with them and they had done nothing but support me. I guess part of me felt like I’d earned a little more trust than they wer

' We spent the night drinking and reminiscing, while our men spent their night enjoying the barflies, getting drunk and dancing to the band, but as the night sky turned from inky black to a beautiful myriad of dawn colours, more than a hundred Bikers were assembled in Gio's car park ready to ride. Juan and Miguel had also honoured their agreement with me, and as we headed for the confrontation, more and more Bikers joined us, and we made a formidable sight spread out riding down the highway. The road was empty, as we had called in favours to enable this, and it wasn't long before outriders had discovered where the FBI was hiding. I gave the signal for the men to surround it. Then, I ordered