Iron Tzars MC, Book 4
Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense
Date Published: May 12, 2023
Bellarose -- My drive to my new job didn’t go as planned. Me and my “photographic memory” got lost, ending up on a private road in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana. Worse, I got a flat. And it was getting dark. When a dangerous, sexy biker stops to help, I’m not sure if I’m fortunate or not. Double that when I find myself mashed against said dangerous, sexy biker with him kissing me like he wants to devour me. Then things get really weird.
Atlas -- I’m in so much trouble. Not only in the girl in my care the most enchanting woman I’ve ever encountered, she’s the daughter of one of the richest men in the world who happens to also be one third of the Shadow Demons. Which means, that kiss I stole might have signed my death warrant. Every instinct I have is telling me I need to call in my brothers to get her out and end the operation I’ve been deeply embedded in for months. But my little hellion has other ideas. I just hope we haven’t waited too long. If I have, we’re both dead.
WARNING: Graphic violence, adult situations, and references to human trafficking and domestic abuse that may be triggers for some readers. Happy ending and, as always, no cheating.
EXCERPT
Copyright ©2023 Marteeka Karland
Atlas
What a fucking mess. This fucking club in Terre Haute was rotten to the fucking core. I knew enough about it to make it implode with all the secret deals going on inside, but I hadn’t been given the go ahead from Sting, our president. Iron Tzars was an old MC, dating back to World War II. Back then, they’d been off-the-radar Nazi hunters. Meaning, they killed any they found and didn’t ask permission from anyone to do it. Now we hunt down pedophiles and human trafficking rings. Occasionally we infiltrate domestic terrorist organizations, but most of those are on the government radar, and we let the FBI and ATF do their thing. This bunch, however…
They were as sadistic a bunch as I’d ever seen. Not only did they have their hands into the obligatory guns and drugs, the women and girls they took weren’t trafficked. Oh no. They kept them. Used them. It had put me in a tenuous position because I couldn’t keep my cover at the expense of innocents. With the help of my brothers at Iron Tzars, I’d managed to pull all of the underaged girls out -- there weren’t many, thank God. There were two other women still in the compound. One was happy to be there. Said so herself as she took one man after another with a smile on her face. The other one… wasn’t in good enough shape to express her wishes.
That had been two months ago. Nothing had changed except I’d gotten the leader of this bunch to leave the unwilling woman alone. It wouldn’t last long, though. The willing woman was fast becoming an unwilling woman. Which meant I’d run out of time.
I drove down the road back to the compound. The bike I was on was an older chopper, but it was still a Harley, if heavily customized. It wasn’t my own bike, but I tried to still treat it with respect. The meeting I’d just had, the plans being put into action, had me on the extreme edge. Which was likely why I nearly missed the woman crouched on her knees beside a new-model Ford on the side of the road.
I swerved, and I thought I heard her scream. Pulling over to the side of the road, I looked back over my shoulder. She was flat on her ass, gasping for breath. When she glanced in my direction, she scrambled to her feet and snagged the tire iron next to the car, holding it like a baseball bat.
With a scowl, I turned the bike around and drove the hundred feet or so back to her car before stopping and shutting it off.
“Did I hit you?” Despite my worries, I never wanted to hurt an innocent. The mere fact I hadn’t seen her until I was right on top of her showed how distracted I’d been. A mistake like that could get me killed in this fucking club.
“I -- I…”
“Come on, girl! Are you hurt?” I snarled the question like a demand. Which it was. She took a step backward and rounded the back of the vehicle, putting the car between me and her.
“Don’t come any closer! I know how to use this!”
I couldn’t help but snort. “That thing probably weighs more than you do. Now, tell me if I hit you with the bike, li’l bit.”
She shook her head slightly. “No.”
I glanced at the driver’s-side rear tire. Sure enough, it was flat. “Do you need help?” Again, she shook her head but didn’t relax one bit. I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my beard. I didn’t need this. Not now. “Look. We got off on the wrong foot. I shouldn’t have snarled at you. I didn’t think I’d hit you, but even if I’d clipped you, you could have been hurt. It scared me as much as I scared you. Now. Are you sure you’re OK?” I tried to soften my tone when it wasn’t my nature. Women usually looked at my size, tats, beard, and muscles and ran straight into my arms, begging for a hard fucking. I had no interest in any woman who didn’t.
“I’m fine.”
I barked out a laugh. “I hate it when women do that, girl. You’re not fine. I scared you to death.”
“It’s all right. You said it scared you too.” Her voice was soft and lyrical, wrapping around my insides like silken ties. What the fuck was wrong with me? I wasn’t hard up for female companionship. In fact, until I’d been planted in this fucking club, I’d had a different woman practically every night. More than one sometimes. Now, a little bit of timid innocence was burrowing inside me within a few seconds? Fuck…
“Not the point.” I raised my open hands in a non-threatening gesture. “At least let me change your tire. Can I come closer?”
Finally, she lowered the tire iron slowly. “I suppose so. If you’re sure you don’t mind.” She was so small I had doubts she could hold the damned thing for much longer anyway.
“I don’t mind at all. It’s the least I can do for nearly running you over. Besides, I don’t leave women alone to fend for themselves. No matter how much they don’t trust me.” I’d meant the last to be a small joke. To lighten the mood. Because the fear on her face in the fading light hit me viscerally. I didn’t like her thinking I’d hurt her or meant her ill will. That was the last thing I wanted after what I’d been through the last few months.
“I appreciate the help.”
I knelt by the car, positioning the jack properly before inserting the jack handle and cranking to raise the car. “What are you doing on this road? It’s pretty out of the way. Not many folks live around here.” Because the club I was currently embedded in kept everyone out of their territory through terror and destruction.
“I got turned around,” she said as she squatted beside me, holding the lug wrench at the ready. “I realized I was in the wrong place when the road went from four lanes to two. I don’t remember passing another road, but I might have missed it.”
“Where you headed?”
About the Author
Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.
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