Biker Gangs Books Novels & Stories

He said with bowed head and I rolled my eyes, puffing out the smokes and I turned, heading to the hall. *** *** *** The hall was already filled with bikers, all eager to learn. Of cause they will, I'm the tutor. The girls passed with seductive winks but I ignored them like they were non existent. “The Ballisters are one of the toughest mafias over here in the City, Getting into thier volt like home isn't going to be easy! You'll need skills, stamina and Strength! The three S to a perfect plan's accomplishment!” I said and they nodded.

he said. I heard a loud rumble and my mind began to race as it got closer. “Is … is your guy a biker,” I asked, running to the window. “Yeah uhm … he’s an Outlaw,” he said. I fully well knew what that meant. They came into the shop sometimes. Slade was sending a fucking biker gang to battle my video game dork of an ex-boyfriend.

“Do you want to run in that?” I motioned to Sandra’s tight leather armor. “Sure,” Sandra said. “It’s more comfortable and flexible than it looks. It’s well worn in.” “Huh. You don’t see many wolves in leather like that,” I said. “I used to run with a biker gang,” she explained. “A… human biker gang?” I asked. A few wolves owned and rode motorcycles, but I’d never heard of them forming anything you could call a gang.

He stretched out his hand. “Alexander.” I shook it. “Jaxson.” The other twin followed, quieter. More guarded. His eyes assessed before he spoke. “Adrian.” I nodded in greeting. James looked between us, clearly pleased. “You guys would get along.” I raised an eyebrow slightly, unsure. “They’re bikers,” James added. That clicked something into place. Alexander’s eyes lit up with interest. “You ride?” “Yeah,” I said. “My dad owned an MC.”

“But to the outside world, this entire operation—and the Alpha himself—runs under a different title. Welcome to the Boulderback MC.” I tilted my head, the acronym sounding foreign. “MC?” “Motorcycle club," she nodded, a proud gleam in her eye. “A biker gang.” A gang. I swallowed hard, a sudden wave of panic hitting me. God, what kind of world have I stumbled into? Did I sign up for way more than my human mind can handle?

The large gang of riders and drivers they had brought with them filled the small street and once the engines had been cut, a deafening silence filled the sticky air. “Gabriel Grayson, Alpha of the infamous renegades, it’s good to see you again.” Dynamite Al dismounts from his bike, the short chubby half-wolf grins and greets me. “Your boys tell me you got some trouble. I didn’t believe it at first because you are the trouble.”

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.

"Steel Serpents have the high ground here. Twenty wolves, three snipers. They're dug in with heavy weapons." He shifts to the eastern valley. "Crimson Riders are here. Thirty wolves, mostly close-combat specialists. They're the muscle." South highway shows next. "Black Chain controls the road. Twenty-five wolves. They've got bikes and trucks for rapid response." Finally, the western creek. "Devil's Bones are the smallest group. Fifteen wolves, but they're sadistic bastards and are torture specialists." "That's ninety wolves accounted for." Cass does the math. "Where are the other hundred and ten?"

In fact, she had the same banner plastered to the wall of her apartment too. There were motorcycle helmets stacked perfectly behind the door, and a punching bag stood in one corner, looking worn out from use along with some dumbbells laying under it. On the shelves, tucked behind trophies and medals from games he had won, were books. Real books. They also looked worn out from reading, and she recognised some classics. They were books she loved, but never imagined a boy like him would ever touch. There was an open sketchbook on another drawer, with a half-finished sketch of a bike. She gasped, fascinated at how good he was. She reached down and slipped open the previous page of the book, and

"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.