Motorcycle Gang Books の小説・ストーリー

Jaguar. The desert wind swept through the valley as the Sandcastles MC climbed onto our bikes. There was a roar from the devil himself as we kicked our bikes alive. We rode out in formation. We were the Sandcastles MC. Nobody fucked with us, because we were the biggest and baddest fuckers alive. We took what we wanted. But we also weren’t fucking stupid. We made deals when deals made sense. And right now, everyone knew a deal with the Snakes made sense before we ended up killing each other completely.

If he’d known I was on a rampage, he wouldn’t have promised me a visit from his crew. He’d spat blood and promised that his death wouldn’t go unavenged. I’d snarled back that I wouldn’t expect any less. The fucker didn’t get another breath after that. He’d been a name we crossed off the hit list. One of the major players sniffing around the Grand Marlow hotel with connections to the syndicate. The syndicate wasn’t just an individual, but a disease spread across half the city, rotting it from the inside out. Trafficking, smuggling, blood money. If you cut off one limb, another would reach out.

In the meantime, if you haven't, you can be reading my other books on this app accordingly: - The Falling [Vol 1] & The Falling Of Us [Vol 2] (CEO & Family Drama) - The Retired Gang Leader (Mafia) - Hurt Me Again (Friends into lovers type of thing? I'm not sure lol but its definitely Angst) - Yes, Mr Daniels (Office Romance) Hope you do enjoy them. Stay Safe! Love ya!

Their matching leather cuts spike volume, as did their lingering and assessing gazes they seemed to throw at everyone. They didn't need to speak much to let other people know that they had a story behind them. Maybe I was thinking that way because I've read their files with Jacopo the previous night. Maybe that was why I feared for the ladies of the web. From what I have seen on the file, The Only Girls Motorcycle Club goes after revenge like a shark does blood. They are relentless when it comes to protecting one of their own. No one had ever come across their club, did something wrong to them, and lived to tell the tale. And knowing what happened to those two prospect of theirs, I knew they

Author Note: Dear Readers, Since English is not my first language, there will be tons of grammatical mistakes. Please continue reading this book only if you don't have any issue with that. Rest I could guarantee you that you won't get bored with the storyline. The following are my books which are completed until now if interested do give a look over them. Her Unloved Mate Her Chosen Mate Purchased By The Mafia Can't Help Falling in Love My Bride is Not a Human Chosen By An Alpha

“Satan’s Bar. We own it.” “We?” “The Road Devils.” “Are what are you?” She thought about the men’s names, the matching vests, the gun, the tattoos. “Are you a – a biker gang?” “You mean, are we a motorcycle club as seen on prime time TV and in Hollywood movies?” She nodded. “Yes and no.” He sighed. “We are indeed an MC but we aren’t criminals.” “You aren’t?” “Well…” A strange look crossed his face, then he seemed to snap back to himself. “Yeah. I mean, no, we’re not criminals.”

Chapter 28: One Hell Of A Skirmish The Outskirts, The Coyote M. C. Hangout, Canyon Creek, Iowa... Growls rumbled through the air as much as the roaring of the various motorcycle engines that had come to a certain area before being shut down as gunshots could be heard ringing out all along the patch of dirt the rival M. C. called their own. At first glance, Brick's keen grey eyes took notice of the damage done via the shootings and the struggle that ensued once The Badger M.C. happened upon the "Zygote" territory. Dirt and dust filled the air making it much more difficult to see one's hand in front of their face, but the Howler M.C. had multiple advantages in comparison to The Badgers M.C. an

For one awful second, she saw only leather, then the cut shifted beneath her hand. And there, stitched across the front of his vest in heavy block letters, were the words that made her entire past rise up like a corpse from shallow ground: HIGHWAY HELLIONS MC UTAH. Nala stared at the patch, her breath leaving her body in one slow, terrible exhale. A motorcycle club. Of course. Of fucking course.

Perhaps the answer lies not in the question I ask, but in the unspoken language his body betrays. "Were they like a gang or something," I finally say. He looks at me, lifting an impressive brow, "You are an observer aren't you?" What does that even mean? "Just answer my question." "Bikers gang." Like in the movies. Wait, these things are real. "You are kidding?" He doesn't reply just gives me a look. "So, like is the mafia real too?" "Yes," he deadpanned. Oh my God. I always thought they were stories from the past. It feels like I've been living in a bubble for so long.

The large gang of riders and drivers they had brought with them filled the small street and once the engines had been cut, a deafening silence filled the sticky air. “Gabriel Grayson, Alpha of the infamous renegades, it’s good to see you again.” Dynamite Al dismounts from his bike, the short chubby half-wolf grins and greets me. “Your boys tell me you got some trouble. I didn’t believe it at first because you are the trouble.”