Jax Teller's Bike Novels & Stories

"Razor, get her car towed to the garage. Jenna, you are coming with me." "I am not going anywhere with you." He smiled then, and it was the most frightening thing I had seen all week. "You can ride behind me, or I can throw you over my shoulder. Your choice." The other riders were watching now, waiting. I was so tired. So broken. "Fine." Colt handed me his helmet. "Hold on tight. I drive fast." As I climbed onto the bike behind him, his words from ten years ago echoed in my memory: *"You are mine, Jenna. Always."*

She had fifteen percent battery and no money for a tow truck and now she was standing in front of six guys from a motorcycle club she'd only heard about in rumors. "I'll figure it out." She reached for her bike and the older guy gently moved her hand away. "Wrench can fix it." Blackwood nodded at the older guy. "We've got a shop. He'll have the part. Two days tops." "I can't afford it." The words hurt to say but lying would be worse. "Who said anything about money?" Blackwood leaned against his own bike and studied her with eyes that were too sharp. "You go to Crescent Bay University right? I've seen you around campus."

Jax looked confused and everyone else laughed. It was an infant sized white t-shirt that said, "I don't snore, I dream I'm a motorcycle". "Keep going. You'll figure it out." Raine smiled. Jax opened the second box and unfolded a black infant tshirt. Written on it is, "Born to be a Biker Just like my Daddy". The third box has two shirts in it in Jax's size. One is white. It has a picture of a motorcycle on it and says, “My Daddy is a Biker”.

Seeing that she was serious, Jax paused for a moment before putting down his chopsticks and explaining carefully. He said the bike he used in the competition wasn’t the exact one from the championship because that bike had a large engine and couldn’t be used by regular people. However, he was attached to it, as it had accompanied him through many races. After he stopped racing, he had a custom civilian version made. Julissa nodded thoughtfully, “One year, I went to the UK for a performance, and they were hosting the Isle of Man TT race. A friend in the dance troupe was a motorcycle enthusiast and invited me to watch the race with them—”

"Mount up! We're leaving!" "My bike is gone!" Jax yelled, gesturing to the compacted scrap of his chopper. Tank didn't hesitate. He pulled his massive trike up alongside the Revers President. "Get on the back, mercenary! Blood on the asphalt!" Jax grinned, vaulting onto the heavy durasteel cargo rack of the trike. "Through the roof! Punch it!" Dax ordered, swinging his leg over his Interceptor.

He then walked away for a moment. Soon after, Xavier re-entered with a man who was wearing a horse riding outfit. He was also one of the contestants in this horse racing event. "Mr. Beckett," he greeted Jasper politely. "I'm sorry to have to trouble you to come over to explain the situation in person. However, your testimony is crucial for me. I hope that you'll understand," Jasper said in a courteous tone. He didn't seem like he was the president of any organization at all.

He was still in Lilly’s stomach with her radiance that shone a light in my dark world back then. “Got here as fast as we could, Bro,” Lex says as he dismounts from his bike and stretches his legs one after the other, then shakes his arms. It’s been a few hours on the open road. Finnegan’s is the safest most out of the way place I could think of. Only now I’m wondering if someone has gotten hold of my private number, then they will for sure know about our old stomping ground. Jax, Michael and Dean get off the bikes and place their helmets on their tanks. They walk towards me and stand directly in front of me as I sit across my bike.

I turned the outside lights on and pulled the door open. “Mister, you seen my bike?” the boy asked timidly. I stepped out and pulled the door shut behind me. “Well, I don’t know. What does your bike look like?” “It was my dad’s old bike. It’s got fat tires and a bell on the handlebars.” I shook my head. “I don’t remember seeing one like that recently.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Somebody must’ve stole it. My dad’s pretty mad, too, ‘cause he says it was a Columbia Thunderbolts and he spent a lot of money fixing it up.”

But make no mistake: you do not mess with me, my brothers, or their old ladies. ​I climbed down from my bike. The house wasn't completely dead, but it was quiet for a Sunday morning. Most of my club brothers were back home with their women, though a few were definitely upstairs in the clubhouse rooms, hooking up with the club girls. Even the guys with old ladies still mess around at the clubhouse sometimes. I guess their women know exactly what they signed up for when they chose the biker life. But me? I could never imagine cheating on Ella. Once we are together, that's it. She's my only one.

"Robbers, gangs... worse. You got far to go?" "Just a few blocks." She straightened, trying to compose herself, but her eyes kept drifting to his arms, the way the tattoos swirled like stories on his skin. A skull, a rose, something tribal. He was everything the sisters warned about, danger, temptation, and sin. Jax glanced at his bike, a sleek black Harley gleaming under the streetlight. "Hop on. I'll give you a lift. No way I'm letting you walk the rest alone."