Claimed By The Biker Giant Novels & Stories

Beside him, Lila’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, her knuckles paling just slightly. “Yeah,” she said, her voice quieter now, dropping into something colder. “The bastard knows.” The gates stopped with a loud bang and Lila drove in. Arthur looked out the window at the world different from what he knew. Rough buildings stood scattered across the wide compound, with clusters of bikes parked outside them. Weeds had overgrown the open spaces, creeping through the cracked ground, while the bikes themselves sat coated in dust, their chrome dulled by neglect. But what stood out the most was the amount of men littered across the place.

My thighs on a seat. “Self defence,” I said. “They cut a bike. I am the licence holder. I pay tax. I do not sell men in cages. I lock thieves. If you suspend me, say it because of sport. Do not say it because a woman in silk does not like my size.” The clerk blinked. Wrote. Asked me to come back for a hearing date. Outside, Zane’s laugh was low. “You talk like a door.” “I am tired of being a clip.”

The bike was a towering, custom built iron behemoth, twice the size of the others, its frame painted a matte black that swallowed the light. The outlaws instantly dropped their weapons, stepping back into a perfect, terrified line of rigid military attention. He's stepping down, the young biker whispered, his teeth chattering from a fear that had nothing to do with the storm. Clear the lane. Clear the lane right now. The heavy black leather boot hit the pavement with a thud that seemed to echo louder than the thunder. A massive, towering figure stepped off the machine, standing well over six feet three, his frame so broad he completely blocked out the headlights behind him. His arms were cov

I climbed on behind him awkwardly, not sure where to put my hands. "Hold on to me." I hesitated. "Lisa. Hold on or fall off. Your choice." I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed against his back. He was solid muscle and heat. The bike roared to life beneath us, vibrating through my entire body. Then we were moving. Fast. I gasped and tightened my grip. Jackson handled the bike like it was part of him, weaving through traffic with terrifying skill. Wind whipped past us. My heart raced. I was terrified and exhilarated and completely out of control.

' she spoke with a final tone. "From the way you spoke to the executives. I was genuinely scared for you." The biker continued, stopping the conversation with my subconscious. "Pfft," I hissed. "You shouldn't have been." "Don't take Bishop's warning likely. He's as dangerous as Havoc, the club's president." Ohh, so, his name was Havoc. I just remembered that when I met some bikers earlier, one of them said something like Havoc being on a fucking spree. Not surprised at all... A man like that would always have women at his beck and call.

The crowd noise dropped by several degrees. The Hayabusa. Suzuki's 1999 superbike, six units produced globally, five of them damaged beyond recovery. One remaining. The single most sought-after collector's motorcycle in the world, and the one that every serious rider with serious money had tried and failed to locate for the better part of two decades. The owner had no public profile. No known contacts. The bike existed in the category of things that people in this world spent years chasing and never found. Zachary caught the helmet one-handed without looking at it.

Just when I thought I had seen it all, my jaw dropped. Bikes. Tons of expensive, vintage, fairly used bikes. They were like nothing I had ever seen, like the types bikers used in movies. I couldn't believe they were actually real, and many of them had designs that a human couldn't possibly think about inspiring. “Close your fucking mouth and get over here.” His voice cut through my haze as he glared at me and I blinked severally before running to where he stood. “Drag that one out to the surface, you need to perform your task in the open, under direct sunlight, plus, its fucking hot in here.”

Kazutora's words. "Hey look! There it is." Kazutora pointed to the right side where it was displayed on the platform. "Woah! So cool." Baji whispered as he watched it. "Imagine if Mikey rides this bike with the guitar tied on his back. Not only will he look cool, but he will also look like a badass gang leader!" Kazutora said in an excited tone. "I know right. I can't wait for him to ride that bike and have that Yamaha guitar." Baji whispered while still wondering about the display.

I replied, sliding a wrench into my back pocket. "Good. Because the qualifiers today aren't just about speed. It's a contact sport," he warned, nodding toward the far end of the pit. "The Ravagers brought their new ringer. They call him 'The Butcher.' He likes to see how much chrome he can peel off other people's bikes while they're still moving."

Tlast time I walked into that place, Hawk had broken my nose and Bear had dragged him back before I could return the favor. It hadn’t been chaos, and that was the part that stayed with me. It had been measured, almost calculated, like a message delivered with bone instead of words. I pushed the image out of my mind as I slowly eased the bike into the compound. Nothing had changed since the last time I'd been here, especially the fact that some of the bikers still stared at me with fear and reverence in their eyes. Good. I made sure my bike was parked carefully, while doing a little reflecting at the fact that I hadn't crashed on my way here. Judging from the fact that I'd been running on pur