روايات وقصص ضمن Books About Motorcycle Clubs

“You’re walking into the Annual Meeting with wolves who smell blood. If you’re going to survive biker politics, you need more than sharp instincts.” “I can ride,” she said quickly. “You’ve seen me.” “I’ve seen you ride,” I corrected. “I haven’t seen you command.” Her brows furrowed. “Hmmm, there’s a difference?” “Obviously,” I replied sounding almost sarcastic. “In this vast world of ours, motorcycles aren’t transportation. They’re statements. The way you ride tells everyone exactly who you are, either; weak, reckless, or untouchable.” She crossed her arms. “And you think I look weak?”

“Leather Wolves! Tonight we decide whether Blackwater remains ours or if our legacy dies here. Protect the civilians, but show no mercy to the invaders. The forest demands blood, and we will deliver it!” The trail of destruction left by the rival motorcycle clubs was already visible as they descended toward the center. Overturned cars, shattered shop windows, and fires painted the town in infernal tones. Malachi was using the chaos to draw the wolves out of the shadows, exposing the pack’s identity so that the balance between humans and supernaturals would be broken irreparably.

“Other motorcycle clubs that they’ve worked with in the past. Criminal circles that they did dirty work for. Road Devils members who hate the law, the police, the government, and who took great delight in running counter to all of those things. Wolf Connor’s decision to break ties with most other MC’s – the one-percenters ones for sure – and to end the illegal activities contracts, and to tell his guys that he’s the President, and this is the direction that he’s taking the club, have all caused some serious waves.” “So… even if Wolf has taken the club legit, your brother is still in danger?” “Yes, especially now. The Devils are vulnerable to attacks, to inner rebellion and dissent, to retrib

“Rico’s been dealing with traitors. And a motorcycle club causing trouble on our territory.” I frowned. “Motorcycle club?” “MC,” he clarified. “They’re stronger in the south… Texas, New Mexico, Florida, but they’ve started creeping this way. Rico wanted me to check what our local chapter’s been up to. We caught one of them. He had a knife.” I bit my lip. “You went yourself?” He gave a humorless smile. “That’s why your father will never be more than a cautious man. If you want loyalty, you don’t sit on the sidelines. You bleed along with your men.”

"I... No, tha-thank you, bo—" "Eat!" A glare was adequate to have him down the glass of juice and three cheese and tomato sandwiches hungrily. "Thank you, Boss." I acknowledged it with a nod. "Now tell me what it is?" "It's the new motorcycle club in Yakima, The Venturi." "A new motorbike club?" My knuckles turned white from clenching them tight.

Chapter 4: The Glorious Lifestyle Of Steel Cowboys Room 42, Kings Canyon Motel, Roadside Motel, Unknown City, South Dakota.... Revving engines filled the surrounding air as "Brick" and his gang lined the parking lot and prepared to take off down the long and winding road in continuation of their journey and the party that seemed to never end whenever they were together. There were about nine of them hitting the road all together and each and everyone of them carried the blood of a beast inside their veins as they fuled up on cocain and alcohol while tearing through town after town reveling in the new found freedom their lifestyle had afforded them. Each member of The Howlers M.C wore a patch

Being flat-ass-broke, we bought old, beater bikes to get around town, which led to fixing those bikes, which led to fixing bikes for other people, which eventually led us to the Burning Saints Motorcycle Club, and our current lives as Minus and Clutch. “Hey man… ah, we’ve got a quick stop to make before we go to the Sanctuary,” Clutch said. I could tell by the shift in his tone that I wasn’t going to like where we were headed. Turns out I was right.

Jax ate like nothing happened, but his foot stayed hooked around hers. "Tell me about you," she said, needing to talk, to slow this down. "The Reapers, that's your club?" He nodded, his fork pausing. "Yeah. It’s a motorcycle club. We ride, protect our turf, and some call us outlaws, but we're family." "Dangerous?" "Can be." He set the fork down, leaned in. "But I like danger. Keeps things exciting." His hand found her knee under the table, sliding up her thigh. Slow and teasing.

I look at him waiting. "You see, I want to agree. However, how do I know in six months, eight months or a year you won't take over my clubs?" I laugh slightly at his words. "Look, your clubs are unique, like a small town. You have a gated community of bikers. You have the garage for fixing up bikes, and special custom details. You also have the club within the confines, and places for bikers to stay, not to mention the restaurant." Ashton speaks now and leans forward.