روايات وقصص ضمن Tarnished Angels Motorcycle Club

Angel’s fingers curled on his knee. “Are you okay?” he asked Tony, his tone worried. Tony didn't answer his question, instead, “Put your seatbelt on, babe.” “I don’t want anything happening to you.” Then he added: “I won’t let them. Trust me.” Angel’s breath hitched. Then a beat. “I promise,” silver eyes sharpening, “...I’ll burn the world down if I have to.” **

The bar looks spotless, and the alcohol bottles are lined up with military precision in glass cabinets hanging above the counter. This place is clean for a biker bar. Only the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and cigars gives it away. I turn around and spot the massive logo of the MC painted on the wall: a black, realistic-looking skull grinning on a red background. Behind the skull are huge black angel wings, and a blunt hangs out of the creepy grin. Above it reads "Highway Demons," and below: "MC" and "Nevada."

“I know you won’t stand for that, but you need to know that even if you asked me to, I wouldn’t do it. There’s no way I’d drag you back into the life, not after what you went through back in Utah. And the truth is that even if you were mine, and that made you safe from my fellow Fallen Angels, you still wouldn’t be anything like safe.” “I know,” she said. “Rival clubs and people looking to hurt you boys through your women. I experienced a few lockdowns at the clubhouse when things were heating up for the MC guys.” “And not just that kind of stuff.” Warren’s voice was hard. “The Angels work closely with Kirk Jensen, and we get up to all kinds of shit for that man. More than once over the past

And far more importantly, why the actual fuck was he babbling about MC business? Despite shit like ‘Sons of Anarchy’ and the bizarre popularity of motorcycle club romance novels, the one-percenter MC world remained shady and secretive, as it should be. Silver had been fully into the one-percenter life for only seven years, but they’d been intense and bloody years, and he knew full well that the less said about what he’d seen and done, the better. For everyone.

The tension in Dirty Angels coiled tighter than a garrote wire as the night deepened. The bar wasn’t some dive with sticky floors and cheap beer; it was high-class sleaze, polished brass rails, leather booths that cost more than most people’s rent, crystal tumblers catching the amber glow of pendant lights. Velvet ropes at the VIP section. A dress code enforced with a single raised eyebrow from the doorman.

Charlie said, “They have the Zanos as an endorsement, and more than half of the money they earn is paid to the Zanos. Strictly speaking, they are sub-brands specializing in the low-end market, and the Zanos family is still the majority shareholder with absolute control.” Daves nodded and said, “You’re right to understand it in this manner, Mr. Wade. In fact, there are many such gangs under the Zanos. The members of the Burning Angels are mostly Africans with relatively low education levels, so their main business is to seize other people’s territory and collect protection fees. There are also several organizations that are engaged in some slightly higher-end industries, such as those high-pr

He was the one Angel who was bold enough to make himself a force to be reckoned with in both worlds, the other Angels knew him and the demons respected him enough to know when to stay away, but this night like many other nights passed, the renegade Angel was washed in guilt and misery as the memories of his past and once glorious life and position visited him again. Liam slurred in his speech as he tried to narrate his sad sad story to the bartender who was in no way pitiful towards him but kind of liked the way he kept the other listeners, his ever loyal customers, laughing and eager to buy more drinks for both the renegade and for themselves as well, as long as money was leaving their pock

Trevor slapped the table angrily. “Where did they take the others?” I asked. “Probably to one of their clubhouses in town.” The prospect replied. The Dead Revenants were another motorcycle club, and we're our sworn rivals. Dead man's alley was their territory, and they guarded it carefully. It was quite unfortunate that my prospects would go riding through at night. “Get him out of here.” I nudged my head at the doorman. “Get him patched up.” “You heard the boss.” Trevor chirped in immediately. “Come on, get this riffraff out of here. You're staining the rug!”

Salt Lake City, Utah The Highway Hellions MC Clubhouse Two days later Wolf pulled up to The Highway Hellions clubhouse, hoping that he looked far more relaxed than he actually felt. He was sure that there were eyes on him right now, and he doubted that any of them were friendly. Taking his time, moving deliberately, he opened the car door – this was the first car that he’d bought since joining The Road Devils, and it was a second-hand piece of shit, and he was already missing his motorcycle like he’d miss air – and stepped into the parking lot. He looked around, noted the MC businesses (a tattoo studio and a bar, somehow both compulsory when talking about biker clubs), and just the sight of

she asked, sadly. “It’ll never happen, did you not hear me telling you that you’re my light? Who the fuck will be better than you? An actual fucking angel?” I asked, laughing softly, “and if you didn’t realize, we’re a motorcycle club, we’re more likely to meet the devil himself rather than an angel.” I continued. “Besides, I don’t care about your age. You’re legal in the state of North Carolina and in the whole of Canada, to have sex after 16. As long as we can still fuck, I’m good.” I smirked, earning a dirty look from my girl.