Biker Novels & Stories

“Oh. Thank you very much.” “I should get going.” The biker man said as he went on his bike and wore his helmet. “My journey is long. I believe yours is, too. Bye” The biker turned on his bike and zoomed off. Who was that? What a good man. I hope I meet him again sometime. I walk to the driver who was fast asleep. It was quite late anyway. I got back into the car and stayed up till I fell asleep. TAKI’S P.O.V.

He asked. “Sure. I don’t mind it.” She replied. The guy sat with her and started a conversation with her. She learned that his name was Damon. He was part of a biker gang called Lobo's. He had a low-rider cruiser made by Harley Davidson. When he learned that she rode an H2R Ninja, he was in awe. It’s rare when you find a girl, gorgeous and sweet, loving fast bikes. She enjoyed that evening having an innocent, but simple conversation with Damon. He didn’t know it, but he helped her forget about her problems for a moment. It was one of the best nights she endured since the second she left home.

I began as I also gave Yulia and Miles their own files. “Biker gangs are more than four, Issa, they are close to twenty or more,” Jamal said. “These four are our persons of interest because they deal with something different from the rest of the gang,” I said. “Dark magic,” Miles added. “What else can you tell us about them?” Jamal asked. “The first biker is called Austin Jordan, went to prison for seven counts of rape and sexual assault, he was sentenced to ten years, now he is an enforcer for the gang and mostly deals in human trafficking,” I said.

“Poison, you aren’t solving any of your problems by running away.” “Well, I wasn’t solving any of my problems by staying there either.” “Boss has checked him out. He thinks you are safer with him than on the road. Whatever happened between you two, he thinks it was a misunderstanding.” “Easy for him to say. Either way, too bad, so sad. I am a biker b&tch now. You made me that way.” “You are not meant to be a biker. This world is not for you. Not long-term anyway.”

PRESENTLY... My biker Boy Fantasies, that was what everyone was calling it. Everywhere Elias went, people's gaze followed her. She was the hottest topic in school right now, and she's never felt more vulnerable in her life. People made fun of her as she walked by. They called her all sorts of names and a few stood out to her especially 'Pervy Nerd' 'Hardcore Hottie' 'Kaelen's number one fan' 'Miss XXX rated'

Lance aka Doc doctor for club. Ezra aka Patch EMT for club. Victor Aka Navy best at boats watercraft. Warren Aka Chopper best at air craft. Anthony Aka Edge best at knives. Jaime aka Data best at tech/ IT. Walter aka Hacker tech geek. Corey aka Jammer tech geek. Joel aka Gamer best at games planning attacks.

And there it was, My bike. Silver. Smooth. Beautiful. Like moonlight trapped in steel. For a second, I forgot the pain. My heart beat fast, excitement, joy, pride. “Wow,” I whispered. “It’s… beautiful. Thank you so much. I love it.” He smiled. “It’s even better in person. It’s one of only two released in this city.” He asked if I needed a teacher, but I chuckled. “No. I can drive.” Of course I can. I rode a bike back home. A smaller one, but silver too.

I asked, already seeing where this was going. “Damn right,” Kingston chirped, his tone reckless, eyes alight with mischief. “That Deathrider bike we got you wasn’t for f**king decoration it’s because of him. We didn’t want it to be this soon, but Griffin’s been strutting around like he runs the streets. We tried hiring bikers to knock him down, but hell, nobody could. And now?” He gave me a taunting smirk. “Now he’s calling you soft. Saying Rehab washed you up, and if you’re really the fiery rider from years ago, you’ll challenge him.”

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.”

It seems he knew all of it was a made up story. “And this biker, what's his name?” he asked, eyes still locked on his notepad. “Mordred Sinclair,” I replied, letting the hate drip into every syllable. “He’s got a crew. Black Vipers or some biker gang bullshit. Check the cameras outside. You’ll see.”