The Barefoot Bandit Novels & Stories

The bandits' advance faltered as men shouted and horses reared. The leader's gaze snapped back to me, his expression shifting from amusement to cold fury. He pointed a thick finger. "Kill the screeching bitch first." Two riders broke from the group and spurred their horses toward my outcrop. Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through me. I was exposed. I turned to run, but my foot slipped on the loose scree. I tumbled down the back side of the outcrop, landing in a heap at the bottom, the wind knocked out of me. I looked up. The riders were already circling around, cutting off my retreat. I scrambled backward, my hand closing around the hilt of my hunting knife. It felt absurdly small.

By dawn, they stood barefoot on a quiet stretch of beach, the horizon painted in soft gold and pink. Mia inhaled deeply. The ocean answered with rhythmic reassurance. Calvin wrapped his arms around her from behind, chin resting lightly on her shoulder. “Better?” he murmured. She nodded, leaning into him. They spent the day like children freed from rules. Running along the shoreline. Challenging each other to ridiculous dares. Splashing in shallow waves. At one point, Calvin lifted her unexpectedly, spinning her before setting her down in the water. She shrieked, laughter breaking through her with a freedom she hadn’t felt in years.

I didn't want to be a complete ditz. “Yeah,” I answered. The pain was fading, but it still hurt. “I just stepped on something sharp.” Aiden dropped to his knees a took my foot in his hand. His gentle fingers probed my flesh and I had to put my hand on his shoulder for balance because he was making my world spin with want. “You're barefoot again,” he chastised gently. “It doesn't look like you broke the skin, though. You have something against shoes?” “You're just as barefoot as I am,” I informed him. “Besides, who goes swimming with shoes?”

While Sol was learning the base of what would make him a powerful being in the future, unknown to him, another event was happening. On the road, a standoff was unfolding. The protagonists were a caravan and a group of bandits. "This road is mine. If you want to pass, leave the money and the women." The group of bandits was composed of nearly fifty individuals, it was rather large as bandits went, their equipment weren't particularly special, but from the wicked expression on their face, it was clear that they weren't at their first attempt.

It was like he couldn't control his actions. “Damn, I’m her puppet. Like a moth drawn to a flame. Stupid moth, you need to fly the fuck away!” His inner voice demanded. Jade and Paula spotted their men and went to let them know they were there. The sexy bartender with the prospect patch on came over to serve Jess, and she ordered a drink. And then there’s Mr. Hot, sexy, muscled, tatted, biker of the week. He has got player written all over him. Just looking for his next lay.

was the grumpy voice of one tall bearded bandit as he brandished his axe and glared at the other members of his gang with his bloodshot eyes. One of the shorter bandits bearing a spiked ball then laughed at the taller bandit and spoke. "Who can't come up with a plan that simply consists of us cutting down a tree and hiding in the bushes?" With a laugh he continued, "Even a kid can come up with that plan". A dark skinned, tattooed bandit bearing a rusty looking halberd then reached for the bag of loot with a grin while screaming "It's every man for himself". The taller bearded bandit then roared in anger and swung his axe at the dark skinned bandit but missed as the tattooed bandit had alread

But no longer this time. She reached for Ethan’s arm. “We can not combat them. We should ” The bald man moved first, lunging at Ethan with surprising speed. Ethan dodged the primary punch, but the 2nd landed rectangular in his ribs. He grunted, stumbling lower back. Jenny’s scream stuck in her throat as the second man grabbed her. “Let me pass!” she shouted, suffering towards his grip. “Enough,” a cold voice stated. The combat stopped instantly. Jenny froze.

Her suitcase was zipped, her favorite books tucked under her arm, and her diary was carefully hidden in her bag. She took a deep breath and whispered, “I'm finally free. Blaze, Axel, Jace… I’m finally going to go to college and be with you guys. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll take over the motorcycle club too.” A smirk curled on her lips. “And ride my own bike.” She picked up the rest of her stuff, her mind drifting back to when she was seven. Her parents' funeral. It was dark and wet, everything felt numb and the men she barely knew—Blaze, tall and protective even at fourteen, had a hard jaw and soft eyes.

So far, he’d been able to do every task from lifting beers, tires, bikes, holding cars, and even just standing, holding out beers. In the past five years since his life went to shit, he’d been working harder than ever to prove to his dad and the club that he was trustworthy and loyal. “Hey, man,” Ian said, entering the parking lot. “Hey,” he said. Riley and Ian had been with the club when they had to go out of town on a drug run. It had gone bad, and all three of them had protected the club. Riley took a bullet to the chest, Ian to the shoulder, and Alfie had taken one in the leg, but none of the clubmen had been hurt.

Five men stood near the bar and they all wore sleeveless leather vests over T-shirts with jeans and biker boots. ‘Great,’ Klara thought. More bikers, more trouble. Nate had died because of bikers. She wasn’t sure that she could keep working there but it wasn’t like she had many options at her disposal. One man cleared his throat and the conversation around her stopped abruptly. “Thank you, everyone, for meeting us here tonight. My name is Bandit and I’m the President of the Road Warriors. Before Nate’s untimely death, we’d been in discussions to buy the club from him so taking over now seems appropriate,” the big man said.