Mask Rider Bike Novels & Stories

"No and stop staring at her or you and I are going to have our first real fight." "Yeah, I'm sorry. I'll lock it down. I'll ride in front for this first bit and make sure nothing’s coming at us." "Cool. See you there." Marc moved to the bike and got on, turning to extend his hand to help Lisa slide in behind him. She slapped his hand in a high-five motion and got on the bike herself. He smirked and started the engine. "Put on your helmet, baby."

I declare, and He rolls his eyes. “I have an extra bike in the shed over there, but if you scratch it I’ll rip your head off and hang it on my wall as a trophy,” I warn, turning back to my bike. Maverick turns to the shed and opens the door to reveal a bright red Yamaha R6 with black wheels that has a tag with the name Ezra on it.

“The usual,” Julia said with a knowing smile. “That tall biker guy is back. Only he gets our girls this excited.” My stomach did a little flip. “Who?” “You know exactly who — the mysterious one who makes all the young girls drool over him. The biker one… the tallest one.” She was trying really hard to describe him. Right. The masked customer. No one had ever seen his face because he always kept his black helmet on, visor down.

"A motorcycle accelerated directly toward me. It didn’t swerve. It didn’t hesitate. It aimed for me. My, uh… my boss… he pushed me out of the way." "Was the rider identified?" "No. He was wearing a mirrored helmet. Black bike. Loud engine. I think—" I squeezed my eyes shut, replaying the moment. "I think there was a scratch along the left side of the fuel tank. Silver underneath the black paint. And the license plate— I didn’t see the full number. But it started with… I think an ‘M’." "You’re certain it was intentional?" "Yes," I whispered fiercely. "I’m certain." "And the injured party?"

She turned her head to a middle aged man with his cap wearing in reversed way and wore his overall working. The man waved at her, asking to follow him. They walked in front of those super maintained motorcycles. “Here you are.” They stopped in front of a black sport motorcycle and it seemed that it just got polished. It was fire blade edition by Honda but it had been repainted in black polished. “I have reassembled some old parts.” Mandy explained. “Since the last time you took it for illegal street racing. A year ago and I almost desperately needed it to be sold.”

"This is Addie. My best friend and sister-in-law." "Nice to meet you." Talia replied. "Yeah, same here. Paris is right, the guys are going to freak!" Addie replied. Viper, Cage, Steel, Bishop, Joker, Diego, and a couple other brothers pulled into the parking lot of the club. They parked their bikes and got off. Totally shocked at the motorcycle parked there. No one recognized it. The only thing they could tell was it was a woman's bike. It was a Harley, and it was black and dark purple with chrome. They hadn't seen anything like it. It was obviously a custom job and no doubt a very expensive one. A few of the guys whistled.

BAM! Three gunshots rang out, loud as thunder. I curled into a ball on the dirt, screaming. The man in the mask let out a sharp cry of pain, clutching his leg as he stumbled back. He didn't stay to fight. He scrambled back to the SUV, leaving a trail of blood on the road, and zoomed off in a cloud of exhaust. The bike skidded to a stop right in front of me, the kickstand clicking into place. The rider was covered in leather gear and a dark helmet. He jumped off and rushed to me.

I answered and put him on speaker. "Ms. Shore, I'm very sorry to bother you," he said carefully. "Cooper Group's under Radiant Group now, and I was hoping you could cut us some slack." Melissa froze where she sat. She stared at the phone, disbelief written all over her face as she listened to her father speak in a tone that was both cautious and deferential. "I was going to help you, Mr. Cooper," I said innocently. "But we're at a class reunion right now, and your daughter just told everyone that your company is doing perfectly fine and doesn't need any assistance.

Marcus said. I lifted my head and looked at the bike again through tears. Now that I could see past the shock, I noticed the rest. The new paint was deep black with a subtle shimmer that only showed when the light hit it just right. Along the side of the tank, worked into the design so delicately I almost missed it, was a dagger. Behind it, a crown. Around both, the fine lines of a compass, woven together in the exact shape of our tattoo. My hand pressed against my chest.

He sat perfectly still, but every line of his body screamed power. ​He wore a polished silver mask that covered the left half of his face, where the worst injuries were rumored to be. The mask was cracked in one place, giving it a brutal, shattered look. His visible features were sharp: a strong jawline, and one eye deep, icy black that was currently fixed on the patterns in the carpet. He looked like a fallen king, ruined but still terrifying. ​"Anya," my father mumbled, shoving me forward. "Meet Alpha Ronan."