Sons of Trouble: A Biker Erotic Romance

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental

Sons of Trouble copyright @ 2014 by Tamara Knowles. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.




It was a sunny 
 morning, the kind of day when most people liked to sit outside in the summer weather and enjoy a late breakfast in the town's diner. As the owner of the diner, Bianca dreaded Fridays and Saturdays. The Merrick boys would be around soon, as they were every week. If she was lucky, they'd merely scare away her other customers so they could have the place to themselves. Some inconsiderate behavior and rude remarks would have to be endured for a couple of hours, but afterwards they'd leave. If they were feeling particularly rowdy or if another customer made the mistake of looking at them the wrong way, that person – or people – would get an ugly beating from the entire gang and her precious diner would get smashed…again.


A faint roar could be heard, as a 4x4 engine approached. The sound was joined by the whooping of its passengers, as the vehicle pulled up to the diner. Bianca knew they'd show up eventually, but her heart sank all the same. The Merrick boys disembarked from the 4x4 and swaggered into the diner. They liked to think of themselves as a
and often identified themselves as such; but, the Merrick boys were just a glorified gang of hooligans. Chad Merrick was the leader and the namesake of the informal group. His pack of boisterous friends, who were really just hanger-ons, identifying themselves as the
Merrick boys
or the
Merrick crew


The young thugs swaggered in, as if they owned the place. They rudely pushed aside a few hapless patrons and appropriated a table by the window. They talked and laughed amongst themselves without bothering to look at the menus or to keep their voices down. The infrequent customers looked as if they wanted to ask the Merrick boys to be quiet, whereas the regulars did the smart thing and kept their heads down. They knew that they should devour their breakfasts and escape before the Merrick boys got bored and decided to break something.


Plucking up her courage, Bianca went over to their table with a tray clutched tightly in both hands. Without a word, she put the tray down and poured them each a cup of coffee. She hoped they’d just ignore her this time.


“Got any booze, sweetheart?” demanded one of the Merrick boys with a grin.


“This is a diner, not a bar,” Bianca replied. Explaining the difference was pointless to these knuckleheads. They came by to show that they were in charge, never for food or drink.


“Even so, all you ever have to drink is tea or watery coffee,” said another Merrick, rudely. “It’s not even an Irish coffee.”


Most people would point out that if you didn’t like the food or drink, you didn’t have to eat there. The last time a customer made this observation to the Merrick boys, they’d beaten the person and smashed a window. Bianca knew better than to kick them out. For one thing, they’d probably break something out of spite on their way out. For another, in spite of their obnoxious behavior, they never failed to pay off their tab. Even if she could kick them out and get them to stay away, Bianca couldn’t afford to turn away paying customers.


“Would you boys like anything to eat with your coffee?” she asked them.


“No fucking way, the food in this place made me puke last time,” said the leader, Chad Merrick. He laughed and downed his cup of coffee.


“That’s cos’ you drank too much whisky, Chad,” replied one of his friends.


“Who gives a fuck what it was I drank that night?” Chad shot back. “We don’t want any of your crappy food, you skank, get outta here.”


Swallowing her pride, as she was forced to do every time, Bianca gathered up the tray and hurried behind the counter. She tried not to wonder which would be worse: a drunken Merrick or an over-caffeinated Merrick. Neither of those possibilities sounded very endearing.


The Merrick boys stayed for over an hour, engaging in a loud conversation without any consideration for their fellow patrons. The regular customers finished their meals and asked for the bill as quickly as they could. Bianca flitted back and forth between the tables, collecting payments, serving food, and refilling coffee cups. At the same time, she kept an anxious eye on the Merrick crew. She fervently hoped that no one would pick a fight with them and that they’d pay up and get lost sooner rather than later.


One customer, evidently with no experience of the gang and their antics, finally became tired of their loud conversation. As he got up to confront them, Bianca’s heart sank. She watched, as a sixty-something year old man approached the young men and demanded that they keep the volume down. Then, Chad Merrick got out of his seat and squared off against him, with his lackeys backing him up.


“There a problem, old man?” Chad demanded menacingly of the elderly patron.


“I just want you to keep it down, that’s all,” the man replied.


“And why the fuck should we do that?” The Merrick boys were grinning with gleeful anticipation, as they balled their fists. They were eager for a fight to liven up their day, even though it was six of them against one senior citizen.


“I’ll…I’ll call the cops,” the old man threatened. That ultimatum elicited a roar of laughter from the Merrick crew.


“Oh no, please don’t call the cops!” Chad Merrick said, mocking him. “We’ll be as quiet as church mice, we promise.”


Chad followed up his sarcastic plea by giving the old man a rough shove into the stools behind him. Bianca watched helplessly, as the old man got up and swung his fist at the young hooligan, who easily sidestepped him and threw him to the floor again.


“Stupid prick,” Chad Merrick snarled. “We own the whole fucking place and that means we can talk as loudly as we damn well want.”


With the other customers looking on in shock and dismay, the Merrick boys got up to leave. Each took their turn to spit on the old man on the way out. Simply because he could, the last of the thugs swept the coffee cups off the table and onto the floor.


Bianca winced as the cups shattered on the ground, spilling their contents onto the carefully mopped floor. Before heading out the door, Chad reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “Catch, bitch,” he said contemptuously, as he threw the money at her.


She caught the money and began counting it bitterly, as Chad swaggered out of the diner. She loathed the Merrick boys. Everyone in the town loathed them. She hated their obnoxious and abusive behavior towards her and her customers. She hated their arrogance, doing as they pleased wherever they went and acting as if they owned the town. She hated replacing newly damaged items nearly every week. But above all, she hated the humiliation of taking their money after insults and broken cups. The cash helped her get by and it usually covered whatever damage they’d caused, plus a little extra.


As much as she hated that she was bribed into silence, she couldn’t afford not to take it. It was much better to just take the money and stay on the Merrick gang’s good side than risk their vandalistic wrath. Plus, she feared the potentially bankrupting destruction they might unleash on her precious diner if she didn’t play along.


Once she’d pocketed the cash, Bianca went to help the old man to his feet. The roar of the 4x4 engine erupted in the parking lot, as the Merrick boys clambered on and sped away. Once again, whooping and cheering could be heard in the distance. At least the damage wasn’t too bad this time.




The sun was just over the horizon, its rays just starting to peak between the buildings in town, slowly warming up the landscape. Something was different this Saturday morning. Instead of the usual dawn silence, a faint droning could be heard on the road heading into town. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the droning became a roar, heralding the advance of a faint black smudge in the distance. Several distinct dots powered closer, their roar growing louder. Five bikers, clad in black leather, had arrived in town. They pulled up outside the diner and dismounted.


The first customers of the day swaggered into the diner, startling Bianca as they took up a window booth without a word. She walked over with a notebook and pen, nervously keeping her distance from the thuggish-looking visitors.


“Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked apprehensively.


“Strong black coffee would be good, please,” said the leader of the band of bikers, politely. He even smiled as he said it, which was pleasantly surprising.


Bianca went off and returned with some cups and a pot of coffee, while they looked over the menu. She returned to the counter to prepare for the arrival of other patrons, all the while watching the bikers with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. She’d always imagined bikers as rough-looking men in their forties and fifties with long, graying beards and potbellies. Not these guys. They looked strong and well-built, as well as unusually young for Harley riders. There were maybe in their late twenties or early thirties. They all had facial hair, but no long beards. Strangest of all, there were no patches or badges on their jackets indicating which biker club they belonged to. They didn’t seem to belong to any.
Were they nomads, perhaps? Driving from town to town until they found a club?


One of the bikers waved at her and Bianca came back over with a notebook and pen in hand, ready to take their orders. In fact, their appearance wasn’t what was strangest about them: it was their attitude. They were unfailingly courteous as she took their orders, even thanking her.


The leader even gave her a friendly smile, as he gave his order. She caught a curious glint in his eye, as she turned to leave. So, she stole another glance at him as she gave the order to the cook.


The leader had a head of shoulder-length, brown hair and a beard that was finely trimmed and groomed. His blue eyes were expressive and a daredevil twinkle sparkled in their depths. He also had a bad boy smirk that played about his lips. Having such rough-edged men share a table at her diner was a little off-putting. Plus, something about their handsome leader made her feel strange, but so far they hadn’t caused any trouble.


Bianca served the nomad bikers the scrambled eggs and pancakes they’d ordered. Then, she quickly got busy, as more customers arrived for breakfast. All morning, though, she couldn’t keep her eyes off the bikers and their dashing leader. She stole another glance at the leader and he gave her a smile in response. She quickly averted her gaze in embarrassment, opting to stare at the counter.


Her reflection in the little mirror behind the counter caught her eye and she began examining herself a little self-consciously. She had dark hair with a few blond highlights streaking through it. She kept it tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of the way. She had soft brown eyes with a button nose underneath. Overall, she was quite pretty.


Bianca sighed wistfully. Her lack of a love life was the least of her problems right now. She had a business to run. She worked long hours, seven days a week; so, there was no room or time for a boyfriend. Serving customers, collecting money and tips, cleaning up afterwards, and paying taxes and bills took up most of her time. Plus, she usually had to pay for repairs after visits by the Merrick crew.


The familiar roar of a 4x4 made Bianca’s heart sink and she cursed herself for jinxing the moment. The Merrick boys’ pickup truck pulled into the parking lot and the young thugs jumped out, swaggering towards the diner. They barged in like the bosses they thought they were. Their conversation was so loud, it made the bikers turn around to see what all the fuss was about. The Merrick gang didn’t give the bikers a second glance, as they helped themselves to a spare booth by the window.


Resigning herself to the inevitable, Bianca collected some cups and a new pot of coffee onto a tray. Then, she went out to serve it to her least favorite customers. If she went through the motions of serving them drinks and putting up with their abuse, maybe they’d leave without causing any damage or hurting any of the other patrons. She hoped for the same thing every time the Merrick boys came around, but it seldom came to pass.


“More watery coffee that tastes like piss,” remarked one of the Merrick boys, disdainfully. “Fucking great start to the morning.”


Bianca ignored him and poured each of the hooligans some coffee, as she tried not to listen to them comment on her plump breasts. They also joked about some poor kid they’d fleeced the previous night. It wasn’t exactly heartening to know that she wasn’t the only one who had to endure abuse from them.


“You boys want anything to eat with your coffee?” Bianca asked them woodenly, knowing that the answer would be more abuse and insults.

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