Books About Biker Gangs Novels & Stories

Even from this distance, I could see the fear creeping across her face. People walked by without saying a word. Some looked away. Others crossed the street entirely. Nobody wanted trouble. Not when motorcycles gangsters were involved. That was the problem. To this town, a biker was simply a biker. Nobody cared what patch he wore. Nobody cared which club he belonged to. Bishop’s men had spent years terrorizing Greystone, and somehow every crime they committed stained all of us equally. I pulled the truck to the curb and climbed out. The sound of my boots against the pavement made one of them glance over his shoulder.

That’s his second mistake. “That must’ve hurt,” I murmur, brushing the ash away with my thumb, almost gentle. “You poor thing.” Bones shifts, eager to end it. I lift a hand. “Don’t make him repeat himself,” I say, irritation slicing through my tone. “Where. Are. My guns.” “We don’t have them!” he sobs. “We sold them, okay? We’re just a small gang—we needed money, men, leverage in these streets. We—”

“They have been taken apart. I have handled it myself. The city is clean now.” “Structures?” Richard stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. “What ‘structures’? Speak plainly, man! What are you hiding?” I was losing him. I was losing everyone. I had to give him a name. I had to give him a villain he could understand. A head to cut off. “The Mafia Bikers,” I whispered, the word feeling like poison on my tongue. “There was a… group. A bad group. They are the reason for the old numbers. But they are gone now. I promise you.”

He straightens his jacket like he’s arriving at a negotiation instead of a capture. I follow behind him, with my eyes up, shoulders loose, cataloging exits. None close enough. The camp sits layered inside the city’s lower ring with concrete walls, mobile turrets, and drone nests crawling the ceilings. Banners hang from steel beams, each marked with a symbol I recognize too well. The Jackels…..the second biggest biker gang in the city. We’re marched into a central operations hall with crates lining the walls—our crates, weapons, and the skulls.

Only bad things bring everyone together—like death. Every time a biker dies, they all return to lay him to rest. Even the retired ones. Even those who’ve walked away. As for the Sons of Chaos MC, I don’t know much about them,just that they’re the richest biker group across the states. They own more businesses than any other MC, and they’re also the most populated. I’ve seen them fill up an entire bar before, and I once overheard Daisy and Matt saying that wasn’t even half of their members.

The winner gets to leave town for the wonderful opportunities waiting for them at the nationals. Max had been nervous about it all week long. As I moved through the crowd, I was confronted by the loud buzz of engines roaring, the thick smoke that curled into the air as bikes zoomed past me. The smell of engine oil was dense, disrupting my nostrils. Danger was in the air. I could smell it, too. Everywhere I walked, I saw an affiliated biker: Ryders, Outlaws, Vandals, Slashers and Devils. In their jackets, they all looked like different degrees of intimidating.

“You okay?” “Motorcycle club?” I asked. He nodded. “Like Hell’s Angels?” Booker smirked. “In theory.” “Crap.” I glanced up at him. “I really should go.” “Go where, darlin’? There’s nothing around here for over a mile in any direction.” “Clarify something for me. Are you a club because you have really nice bikes and like to hang out and drink beer on occasion, or are you like outlaws or something?”

Now that was the Ty I knew and loved. "We still haven't seen him yet but if you tracked him here and that book ties in then there are only so many places around here he could be hiding out. We'll get to the bottom of it. Just one more player, he should be here..." Just then Chaz opened up the gate and a whole fucking crew of bikers came riding in. The leader dismounted off his custom made top of the line ride with his wife's name emblazoned on the side and headed for us. One smooth motherfucker this one, and the shades just tipped that shit over the edge.

‘It sounds like a good offer to me,’ I say, with a look of confusion, and Debbie lets out a sigh. ‘This isn’t just any bar. It’s called the Snake Pit, and it’s just as bad it sounds. The Savage Snakes, a biker gang, live next door, and they’re at the Snake Pit every night. I don’t think it’s safe for a young lady to live there, even if it is temporary. The biker gang are known for their savagery and they fight with other biker gangs. Such as, the Spider Backs, who are just as bad as they are. It’s a really bad area, and I want you to be safe,’ she says.

Alpha Scott linked quickly. One of the bikers from the gang wiped out on some fresh cut grass the city workers left in the road, and they are going to ask their boss to talk to you about extending their time to fix it. I looked around, waiting for a response and making sure no vehicles were driving our way. We still needed to get rid of all of the blood.