AXEL by Jamie Targaet (Hounds of Hell MC, Book 3) #mc #romance

 

Hounds of Hell MC, Book 3

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense

Date Published: April 19, 2024

 

 

Sadie -- I finally found the courage to escape my abusive boyfriend, but I didn’t make it far. I’m holed up in a small Virginia town called Mercy. There will be no mercy for me if my ex finds me. Thanks to Axel, the gorgeous biker who towed my car to his garage, I have a place to stay and a job at the town’s greenhouse. I also have the hope that I might have a second chance at love one day, with Axel.

Axel -- When I got called to tow a broken-down car to my garage, I found the beaten and battered angel who owns it on the run from the devil. Here in Mercy, with me, she’s healing and learning to live again. When her ex figures out Sadie’s here, even his mafia ties can’t protect him from me. His entire mafia family can’t take back what’s mine and there’s going to be hell to pay when they try.

EXCERPT

Axel

 

It was a cold February morning. Alexander Harper had just sat down with his first cup of coffee when his phone hummed in his pocket. When he pulled it out and looked at the screen, he saw the call was from Cowboy Pete’s, a local gas station just off the interstate.

“This is Axel,” he said, using the road name he’d been given by Razor when he’d been a prospect.

“Hey, hon. How are you?” He recognized Elsie Damron’s voice. She’d worked at the gas station since he was a kid.

“Cold,” he said. “What can I do for you today?”

“A young lady stopped for gas a little while ago,” Elsie explained. “She filled it up but now her car won’t start.”

“You give her bad gas?” Axel asked, grinning.

“No,” Elsie said. “Well, I hope not. There’s smoke rolling out from under the hood. Looks like it’s overheating to me. Can you come take a look at it?”

“Yeah.” Axel knew the quiet morning was too good to be true. Putting the call on speaker, he placed his phone on his desk, grabbing a tie from his desk drawer to pull his hair back from his face. “Did you already call Tyler? I appreciate the business, but it would be a lot closer, and cheaper, to tow it to his place.”

“Yeah, I know,” Elsie said, her voice dropping to a loud stage whisper. “But I think you would be better for this particular situation.”

“Okay, I’ll head that way,” he told her. “What’s she driving?”

“He’s going to come get you,” Elsie said to someone there with her. To Axel, she said, “Yeah, it’s an older sedan. A Lincoln, I think. What model year is your car?”

Axel couldn’t make out what the other person said.

“It’s a 2002 model,” Elsie told him.

“Give me thirty minutes,” Axel said, ending the call.

Taking his coffee with him, Axel headed back into the shop. His twin brother Ryder was working on an SUV brought in yesterday. Ryder looked up when he saw Axel approach.

“Where you off to?” Ryder asked.

“Got to tow someone in,” Axel told him. “I’ll be back.”

When Axel reached Cowboy Pete’s with the tow truck, there were several cars there. They had a halfway decent grill inside the station, and it was a popular breakfast stop for town regulars and travelers alike. He pulled into the lot and parked, heading in to have Elsie point out the lady and her car.

Elsie grinned when she saw him at the counter. “Thanks for coming, hon. She’s a couple of spaces down from where you parked. The black Lincoln.”

“You bet,” he told her, seeing it in the window behind the counter where the older lady stood.

“Axel?” Elsie called as he headed for the door.

“Yeah?”

“If I can do anything for her, you let me know, okay?” And the kind older woman meant it.

“Will do,” he told her, curious now about what he was walking into.

Axel returned to the tow truck, spotting the black Lincoln that was just three spaces to the right of him with no cars parked in between. It looked like someone was sitting in the driver’s seat. Walking up to the car, Axel tapped on the driver’s window. The lady jumped in the seat, startled. Axel saw a flash of red curls before she peered up at him through the window.

Now Elsie’s words made sense. The young woman’s left eye was black and almost swollen shut. Her nose was swollen and bruised, her lip split. Someone had beat the fuck out of this little lady. Slowly, she opened the door and got out of her car. Her careful movements told him her face wasn’t the only thing that hurt her this morning. Axel stepped back to give her room as she closed the door and leaned back against it.

The way she wrapped her arms protectively around herself and the fear in her green-eyed gaze had him pausing. Now he knew why Elsie called their garage. Tyler wasn’t a bad guy, but he was gruff and lacking in most social niceties.

This young woman before him looked like she’d been through hell and was expecting more.

“Hi there,” Axel said. “Elsie called me to come look at your car. What’s going on?”

“It overheated I think,” she said quietly. “I was okay for a couple of hours. But then it would heat up and it would start smoking. I would stop and let it cool off. I stopped here to get gas and let it cool off again. When I tried to restart it this time, it wouldn’t.”

“Would you pop the hood for me?” Axel asked.

She scrambled back into the driver’s seat, searching for the lever to do that. Just when he was about to offer to do it for her, she found it.

Axel lifted the hood and removed the radiator cap. Walking back around to where she sat behind the wheel with the driver-side door open, he said, “Try starting it.”

It did start but looking into the radiator, he saw the coolant start to bubble up like a milkshake. Walking back toward her, he saw white smoke coming out of the tailpipe in the rear. Well, that wasn’t good news.

“Turn it off,” he told her.

She did as he said, climbing back out of the car.

“Yeah, that’s a blown head gasket,” Axel explained. “The smoke coming out of the back is coolant getting into your exhaust system. It’s not supposed to do that.”

“Can you fix it?” she asked. “H-how long will it take?”

“I can fix it,” he said. “How long it will take depends on a couple of things. I need to find a replacement for the head gasket and if there’s any damage to the engine, we might need parts for that too. Once we have the parts we need, I can have it fixed in two or three days.”

Axel could tell that wasn’t the answer she was hoping to get. It was probably a good idea to get all the bad news out at once.

“It’s also going to be expensive,” Axel told her. “You’re probably looking at two to three thousand dollars to fix it.”

Those big green eyes were getting shiny with tears and Axel felt a tiny bit of panic creeping in. He was no damn good with tears. Never had been. He had to find some way to make the situation the little lady was in less terrible.

“Where are you headed?” he asked. “Do you have any friends or family we can call that will come help you out?”

Dropping her gaze, she shook her head.

“Where are you heading?” Axel tried again.

She shrugged for an answer.

“Do you know if your insurance covers towing?” he asked. If nothing else, it looked like he was going to be towing her back to his garage.

She shook her head. Pretty red curls swung with her movements.

“Do you have your insurance information in the car? We could call,” he offered.

“I don’t have it,” she told him.

Didn’t have a destination. Didn’t have insurance information? What the hell was the situation here? When he gave her the cost of towing the car, she reached into the pocket of her coat, pulled out a credit card, and handed it to him. It was brand-new and shiny. Axel doubted it had ever been used.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m going to run this, and we’ll be on our way.”

She scrambled back into her car like a scared mouse. Axel shook his head as he headed back to his tow truck, reaching in to get the card reader they used for payments. The name on the card was Sadie Downing.

What the hell happened to Sadie?

He ran the card. The transaction went through which surprised him. He walked back to her car, tapping on the window to return her card. Again, she scrambled out of her car, looking around nervously.

Axel just had to ask. “Are you okay? The local hospital is on the way back to the garage.”

“I’m fine,” she said a little too quickly.

“Okay.” He would leave it at that. “Why don’t you go ahead and climb in the tow truck? I’ll get your car hooked up and we’ll get going.”

“Thank you,” she said quickly before making a beeline for the truck, hastily climbing into the cab.

It didn’t take Axel long to hook up her car and get them on the road. Sadie, if that was her name, huddled quietly in the far corner of the cabin with her head leaning on the window. While he normally appreciated the silence, just now it was awkward. He really wanted to ask her what happened. Who did that to her face?

One thing was pretty certain. She was on the run, and she was afraid. Looking at her, he understood why.

 

About the Author

Jamie Targaet is the author of the Hounds of Hell MC. She's anxious to introduce you to this club of gorgeous, dominant men and the lucky women who surrender to them. The ride is going to get wild at times, not going to lie. But there's thrilling action, scorching hot sex scenes, and all the feels. 

Jamie writes erotic romance for Changeling Press, a little fanfiction on the side, and she's an aspiring horror writer in another life. She enjoys time with her family (including the fur babies). She likes good horror movies and shows, emo metal and classic rock, and time spent in other worlds writing and reading. She loves hearing from readers and is looking forward to hearing from you.

 

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 Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

 

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Quantum Consequence by Mike Murphey (Physic, Lust and Greed Series, Book 5) #SciFi

 

Physic, Lust and Greed Series, Book 5

 

Sci-Fi

Date Published: 05-16-2024

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

 

After foiling the political ambitions of a would-be American dictator, time-traveling lovers Marta Hamilton and Marshall Grissom return to their life in the Caribbean only to confront the murder of a friend and inherit responsibility for a gutsy 10-year old boy. Throughout their unlikely and tumultuous relationship, Marta has harbored suspicions that her time-traveling companion is not being honest with her. Is Marshall really the bumbling, good-hearted klutz she has come to love and trust? Or is he the cunning, cold-blooded assassin Gillis Kerg suspects him to be? In this fifth tale of physics, lust and greed, a bizarre parallel universe and a monstrous product of artificial intelligence will impose a costly consequence requiring both Marta and Marshall to face the truth of her most haunting question:  “Who are you, Marshall Grissom?”

 

 

Excerpt

 

Everyone familiar with Marshall Grissom and Marta Hamilton knew Marta was the scary one.

Marshall towered six foot seven and was as wispy as a soda straw. Clumsy, self-effacing and kind. In contrast, Marta stood barely five feet, sinewy, built like a marathoner. Although her romantic liaison with Marshall had softened some of her bristles, she could be as mean as a mamba snake and unforgiving as a loan shark.

Once she’d allowed someone to pick their way through her tangled emotional defenses, though, her loyalty was fierce. Which was why she was quick to respond when she heard a man yelling from the dock beside Cecil’s boat, Somewhere Over China.

“Come on, old man! Come out here!”

Marta scrambled to the deck of Dontchaknow—a thirty-two-foot Bavaria tied bow to stern with Cecil’s ketch-rigged Tayana in Grenada’s Prickly Bay Marina. On the dock a hulking man, his belly peeking out from under a T‑shirt that strained to contain beefy biceps, swayed a little, like a long-distance sailor who hadn’t quite found his land legs.

“Come out, you, and bring Baptiste! His mama want him home right now,” Cecil’s would-be assailant bellowed in a Caribbean-Creole accent.

Cecil emerged onto his boat’s deck, brandishing a speargun.

“Stop right there, Ignace Aguillard,” Cecil said. “Baptiste doesn’t have to go anywhere with you. You hit this boy. Go away, or we’ll call the constable.”

“I’m da only father he got,” Aguillard answered. “Boy sass me, need to get hit. Boys gotta learn respect. Put down that toothpick you holdin’, you, or I come up there and stick it up your ass.”

Marshall clambered up on deck after Marta. “What’s going—”

The question died on his lips as Baptiste peeked from behind Cecil, revealing a black and purple shiner that closed his left eye.

“Marshall,” Marta said, “go below and get the flare gun.”

Instead, Marshall vaulted over Dontchaknow’s lifelines, landing with surprising agility onto the narrow dock.

“Marshall, no!” Marta called.

Aguillard turned to confront this new threat.

“Now you in trouble, you!” Baptiste shouted with all the venom a ten-year-old could muster. “Dis da one I tell you about. He a famous killer, not afraid a’ da likes a’ you.”

Aguillard glanced at Cecil, still pointing his speargun, then back to Marshall. He laughed. “You who dis boy been yappin’ about? I break you like a stick.”

Marshall looked around, blinking, as if surprised to find himself in the middle of this confrontation but quickly collected himself. “You hurt Baptiste? He’s just a little boy.”

“Believe me,” Aguillard said, “gonna hurt you a lot worse.”

Aguillard took a step forward.

Bugger, thought Marta. Her only weapon, a flare gun, was below deck. She saw Cecil lean forward, the speargun steady in his hands.

“What are you doing, Marshall?” she said. “You can’t—”

Aguillard charged with Marshall dead in his sights.

“Run, Marshall!” she yelled.

Marshall appeared frozen, paralyzed with fear.

“Oh no!” Cecil called, tracking Aguillard with his speargun, finger on the trigger.

Marshall flinched but stood his ground as Aguillard gathered momentum.

Marta wondered if Marshall wanted flowers at his funeral.

At the last instant before impact, though, Marshall stood tall—almost on tiptoe—and executed an elegant spin, like a matador’s pase natural, allowing Aguillard to brush past him, only a whisper of space between them. As he passed, Marshall gave Aguillard a backhanded nudge with just enough pressure to alter the big man’s trajectory.

Aguillard careened off the dock into fifteen feet of warm, green water, then came up sputtering and cursing. Marta appeared at Marshall’s side, carrying an aluminum dinghy oar. Aguillard swallowed a mouthful of seawater and gagged. Marta swung the oar with all her might, striking him on the head.

Baptiste had leapt onto the dock and stood beside Marshall and Marta as they watched Aguillard sink. Bubbles drifted to the surface, their wet little pops waning in frequency.

Eventually, Baptiste said, “Somebody don’t do somethin’, he gonna drown.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Marta said.

Cecil joined them. They regarded her with imploring eyes.

“Oh, all right,” she said. “Marshall, go to the beach.”

Marta dove in, grabbed Aguillard by his hair and kicked toward shore.

Marshall helped haul him onto the gleaming sand where Aguillard lay unmoving, turning a curious shade of blue.

“Um . . . shouldn’t we, you know . . . do mouth-to-mouth or something?” Marshall asked.

“Not my mouth,” said Marta. “And not yours either, if you want it to have anything to do with mine.”

“We can’t just let him—”

“Oh, I suppose not,” Marta said.

She jumped into the air, then using her whole weight, slammed her elbow onto Aguillard’s chest, which made a cracking sound. Water spewed from his mouth as he gagged and gasped.

“Roll him onto his side,” Marta said.

“Okay, now what?” Marshall asked.

“If he doesn’t get up and walk away in an hour, we’ll call someone to haul him off.”

“I think,” Marshall said, “the tide’s coming in.”

“Then I guess he’d better hurry.”

About the Author

Mike Murphey is a native of eastern New Mexico and spent almost thirty years as an award-winning newspaper journalist in the Southwest and Pacific Northwest. His debut novel, Section Roads, has been recognized by Indie Reader Discovery Awards, Reader Views Reviewers Choice Awards, The IAN Book of the Year Awards, the Somerset Contemporary Fiction Awards, and the Independent Publishers Book Awards. His novel, The Conman has been recognized by the International Book Awards, the eLit Awards and the Manhattan Book Awards. His award-winning Physics, Lust and Greed Series includes Taking Time,  Wasting Time, Killing Time and  The Outlaw Gillis Kerg. “We Never Knew Just What It Was… The Story of the Chad Mitchell Trio” is his first non-fiction work. Mike loves fiction, cats, baseball and sailing. He splits his time between Spokane, Washington, and Phoenix, Arizona.

 

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New Release! The Best of Lexie Bay – Volume Two #anthology

 

Introduction:

Hi, I’m Lexie and I’m so excited to share with you that I am back in the erotic writing world. I’ve been writing part time on and off since 2010 but, in 2023, after several years of focusing on my day job, I decided to quit and throw myself back into writing full time. I’m working on lots of exciting projects right now but before I release anything new, I wanted to pull together all the stories I’ve had published in different anthologies over the years. I released The Best of Lexie Bay - Volume One at the end of last year and now I’m back with Volume Two which covers the second half of my writing career, before my day job took over.

I hope you enjoy it!

 

Blurb:

Relive more of Lexie’s short stories in this second anthology, where you’ll discover new delights at an award ceremony after party, enjoy the heat with a hot summer fling and bring out your voyeuristic side at a masquerade ball that takes a turn to the dark side. You’ll find millionaires, Doms and bad boys, get a taste for the wild side and discover some very interesting kinks!

Lose yourself in Lexie’s fantasy world and get hot under the collar with “The Best of Lexie Bay – Volume Two”. Nine stories, originally published between 2013 and 2017, now all in one place for a whole night of pleasure.

 

Buy Links:

https://books2read.com/TheBestofLexieBayVolumeTwo  

Also Available:

https://books2read.com/TheBestofLexieBay-VolumeOne  

 

Excerpt from Masquerade:

Valtteri took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face to his. His lips were so close and Scarlett tried to kiss him. He pulled away a little, teasing her and then gave in to their mutual desire and pressed his lips gently against hers. Scarlett relaxed as his tongue explored her mouth, his familiarity making her feel safe. Valtteri would never let anyone hurt her. He might like to frighten her a little but she was his and he guarded her fiercely.

“I think you’ll enjoy tonight, little one,” he whispered. “As I said, I know exactly what you like and I am going to give it to you. Call it an early Christmas present. Of course you know that I will enjoy every minute of it too.”

“Valtteri,” she whispered, her eyes dark with longing. “Will you keep me safe?”

“My sweet baby, I will always keep you safe, you have nothing to fear from me. You are mine and somehow, I appear to be yours. No-one has ever filled my thoughts like you do.”

His admission made her smile.

“Who are these people?”

Valtteri looked around at the beautiful people gathered around them. “These Scarlett are my loyal subjects. They have been with me for a very long time and they have seen many girls come and go. I have not cared before but tonight I need you to pass the initiation. It is not enough for me to love you; I need them to accept you too.”

“I’m scared,” Scarlett said, trying to swallow the desire to run even though she knew she could not.

“Let the fear push you on to experience everything you’ve ever wanted. We will help you fulfil your desires…. and ours.”

The light flickered on the walls of the vast room and Scarlett felt a curl of fear as Valtteri walked away from her and the group started to move closer. Shadows fell across the floor and Scarlett realised that many of them were holding what at first glance looked like implements of torture. She trawled her mind to think what Valtteri could have pulled from the depths of her imagination while they had been fucking. She was sure that this was when he had been in her head. She had always felt so close to him when he was inside her, more than with anyone else. She wondered what he was. What they all were. Because as this evening unfolded it was becoming more apparent that they were definitely not human.

The mask obscured a lot of her vision as she tried to see more of her surroundings. Valtteri pulled a lever and the cross rose a couple of inches into the air and spun a slow 360 degrees. There weren’t as many… she hesitated to say people… as she’d first thought but lining the walls, where there had been huge pictures, there were now mirrors. Scarlett watched herself rotate, her tattered dress floating around her. She admired her reflection, the black of her dress and hair highlighting her ivory skin which shimmered in the firelight. But even her skin looked warm against the iridescence of the figures around her.

She caught the eye of a tall blonde standing next to a mirror. She was holding a small flogger with only a few tails and distinctive pointy ends and Scarlett held her gaze as she moved past her. A flash of fantasy made her juices flow and she hoped beyond hope that Valtteri had incorporated her desire for pain. He knew how much she enjoyed it. She could almost feel the sting of the whip on her skin and before she could even look for Valtteri to see his face, the girl was in front of her and the cross stopped spinning and tipped backwards a little, exposing Scarlett’s pussy further. The girl leaned over until she was so close Scarlett should be able to feel her breath on her face, but there was nothing but the glow of her eyes and the smooth plumpness of her pouting lips.

 

Author Bio:

Lexie lives in Brighton with her family. Her favourite thing is to write stories with a HEA, infused with that dizzy feeling of falling in love, but she also has a naughty side so her stories stay true to her original romantic dream while exploring the erotic, the kinky and sometimes the darker side of love and lust.

 

Follow Lexie:

https://twitter.com/Lexie_Bay

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https://www.lexiebay.co.uk

 

Release blitz organised by Writer Marketing Services.

CHANNELING by Andrew Teague McCollister #mystery #thriller

Mystery / Thriller

Date Published: March 12, 2024

 

 

Defying gravity, manipulating the naked eye, and moving faster than time itself? These abilities, or Channels, were once considered impossible yet are now commonplace, and the small town of Lockwood, New Hampshire is no exception. In 2055, society has progressed to include and incorporate Channeling as a natural part of life. This is made possible by the establishment of the Department of Channel Control and the limited abilities most Channelers have. However, this all changes when four students at Lockwood University discover they can take their Channels further than ever thought possible. Now, the more Rachel, Miles, Angelo, and Clayton discover about their abilities and their pasts, the more dangerous their lives become.

 

About the Author

Andrew has always been passionate about writing and storytelling. They describe themselves as a curious Writer who loves exploring diverse themes, motifs, and genres. As part of their writing process, they love immersing themselves in their projects—diving headfirst into the research, production, and fine-tuning of the stories they feel are the most worthy of telling.

 

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BULLET by Marteeka Karland #mc #romance

 

(Grim Road MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap

Date Published: April 12, 2024

 

 

Cecilia: The enigmatic biker is the one bright spot in my life. I see him three or four times a week at the cafe down the block. Talking to him about books we’re reading or our hopes and dreams helps me escape my reality, if only for a short time. Most of the time we don’t even sit at the same table. He’s everything I ever wanted but know I can never have. We simply cross paths. Him going… wherever he goes. Me… I know I’m going straight to hell. Nothing but a miracle can save me. The Devil owns my soul.

Bullet: There’s something about the small, dark-haired woman I see at the corner cafe. She’s everything I’m attracted to in a woman, but she’s so young it’s laughable. I didn’t set out to seduce her, but the next thing I know she’s in my bed and I spend the most incredible night with her. I wake up the next morning to a cool pillow. No note. No way to contact her. I chalk it up to a young woman not wanting drama in her life until I see her again a few days later. This time, she’s in my ICU, beaten to within an inch of her life. Someone’s going to pay. God have mercy on their soul. Because I won’t.

 

WARNING: Bullet includes scenes of graphic violence and adult situations that may be triggers for some readers. There’s also a protective hero, a determined heroine, and an eventual happy ending. No cheating, as always.

EXCERPT

Bullet

“Just another glorious day in the ICU, Attie.” The fresh-faced resident was trying way too hard to socialize. I’d noticed the pup did the same with all the attendings. I accepted he was trying to fit in and carve his place with people who would be his peers once he’d finished his residency, but no one -- fucking no one -- called me “Attie.”

“My name,” I said, not looking up from the laptop where I was finishing up a physical assessment for the patient I’d just seen, “is Atticus. Or Dr. Benedict. Call me Attie again, I’ll personally see to it you fail this rotation.” If the kid had been a prospect, I’d have beat the shit outta him. But I couldn’t do that. Not in this world. Which was a Goddamned shame because if an adult hadn’t learned how to treat people with respect by this guy’s age, he needed an ass whoopin’.

I was beginning to think it was past time I left practice in the civilian world and stayed at the Grim Road compound full time. Traveling back and forth was risky anyway. The last thing I wanted was someone following me to the compound. They wouldn’t be able to get in, but it would draw attention to us, which I did not want. Still. Here I was. Trying not to punch an intern.

Fuck. Me.

I didn’t give the kid time to respond. Instead, I shut the laptop, picked it up, and headed back down the hall to the lounge. I wanted to finish my day so I could get a bite to eat -- and maybe some stimulating conversation that didn’t involve body fluids or death. I’d had enough of that in the Air Force, yet here I was. I’d thought I’d fulfill some sense of purpose by continuing to work with critically ill patients in a different setting, but death was death.

“He’s just trying to fit in, Atticus.” One of my colleagues, Phil Davis, clapped me on the shoulder as he pulled up a chair. “Don’t be so hard on the kid.”

“I’ve told him repeatedly not to shorten my name. I’m tired of fuckin’ with him.”

“He’ll make a decent doctor if you help train him right.”

“I’m not a mentor, Phil. I told you that when you hired me. I’m supposed to be an intensivist. Not a teacher.” It was a sore spot. The hospital had promised me I wouldn’t have to supervise interns or residents. Yet here I was.

“You know how it is, man. There’s a shortage of healthcare staff. That includes doctors. Why keep these kinds of hours when you can do family medicine?” He shrugged. “The hospital owns the offices, so they all get paid a salary just like we do. Only difference is the hours. They get nights, weekends, and holidays off. We don’t.”

“Coulda had better pay and better benefits if I’d stayed in the fuckin’ Air Force,” I grumbled. “Kid’s got this last chance. He calls me Attie again, I’ll do more than fail his rotation. I’ll kick his fuckin’ ass.”

Phil chuckled, likely thinking I was joking. I wasn’t. “Just give me the report so you can get your cranky ass outta here. Someone needs a beer. And possibly to get laid.”

I scowled at him, but he was right. On both counts.

Report took an hour. We walked around to each of my ten patients’ rooms, and I gave him a rundown of what was happening as well as introduced him to each of those patients. Not every doctor in the hospital wanted to do hand-off rounds like this, but I thought it helped all of us to see the patients as people instead of simply numbers on a screen. As such, I insisted on it.

We only got caught up in one room and honestly, Mrs. Singleton loved to talk.

“I thought I was taking the right dose, Dr. Benedict. I mean, I might have missed my shot from time to time, but I usually manage better than this.” She smiled up at me from her bed. She was always pleasant. And always called me Dr. Benedict. “Maybe if you explain it to me again?” She looked like she was hoping we’d sit down and go over her medication with her again, but didn’t want to actually say so.

“Maybe we should get you an insulin pump,” Phil said, not looking up from his tablet as he pretended to review her chart. I knew he was just giving himself an excuse not to engage. Mrs. Singleton had been offered the same thing every single time she was admitted. She always refused. Something Phil knew all too well.

“Oh, I couldn’t. It might give me too much. What would I do then?”

“It won’t give you too much, Nanny.” Phil’s irritation showed on his face and in his voice, but he never looked up from his fucking tablet. “It’s programmed to give the exact amount we order. You need to agree to this so you don’t have to be admitted so much. You’re going to ruin your kidneys and your eyesight, among other things.”

“I’m ninety-two, Dr. Davis. If my kidneys and my eyesight were going to go, they’d have done so already. Besides, I know I’m not long for this world.” She sounded like she was going to cry. It made me want to beat the shit outta my colleague.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” I said, sitting beside the bed and taking Mrs. Singleton’s hand. One thing I tried to always do was be respectful to my patients. Just because she was old didn’t mean she was stupid. “We’ve discussed this before. If you want to keep taking shots instead of using an insulin pump, you can. But, he’s right that you’re hurting your body. I’d like to have long conversations with you for years to come.” I gave her a gentle smile.

She patted my hand with her free one. “You’re a good man, Dr. Benedict.” Then she sighed, looking resigned. “If you think it’s best, I’ll agree to your pump. Do you promise it will be OK?”

“I do, ma’am. I’ll even come check on you after you’re released until you get used to it.”

Her eyes grew wide. “You’d do that? For me?”

I smiled. “You’re one of my favorite patients, Mrs. Singleton. Of course, I will.”

Mrs. Singleton was a diabetic who went into ketoacidosis once every couple of months because she didn’t take her insulin correctly and refused to modify her diet. At ninety-two years young, I figured if she wanted to eat cupcakes and moon pies, that was her prerogative. My job wasn’t to judge but to help her when she got sick. I’d often wondered if she didn’t do this to herself on purpose to get some attention because her daughter and grandson refused to put her in a nursing home but were never around to take care of her. She’d been a social butterfly in her younger years, by all accounts, and needed personal interaction. But, she abided by her family’s wishes and stayed at home even if her daughter and grandson were never there to help her.

After we left and started down the hall, Phil chuckled, as if he hadn’t insulted and treated the elderly woman horribly. “I swear, that woman gets chattier every time we have her.” He shook his head. “I don’t have time to spend thirty minutes in her room chatting about the weather or the good old days. Not to mention arguing with her about her treatment.” Yeah. It was past time I either opened my own practice or simply moved back to the clubhouse and disappeared from polite society.

I gave Phil a hard look. “You know, if you had half as much sympathy for Mrs. Singleton as you do that disrespectful punk of an intern, you might be a decent doctor.”

I left Phil alone with Intern Iggy and the rest of the zoo and headed out. I needed the sun on my face and the wind in my hair. Fuck this shit. I’d keep my promise to Mrs. Singleton no matter what, but my days here were numbered.

Coming back in to the doctor’s lounge, I went to the locker room and changed out of my scrubs and lab coat. I left very little at the hospital other than a couple changes of clothes for emergencies, so packing my stuff wouldn’t be an issue. Tomorrow I’d bring my truck and clean out my shit. Tonight, however, I was on my bike. I wasn’t prepared.

I strode out of the hospital, my boots thudding on the pavement as I made my way toward my sleek black Harley V-Rod. The bike that would carry me away from the sterile walls and white coats. I needed the freedom of the road and the comfort of my club. Grim Road MC had been good to me. After my last mission it had become my only real haven. Initially, working at the hospital had fulfilled my need to help people, but it had become more cumbersome than helpful now.

Flashes of the carnage I’d lived through shot through my brain and I gritted my teeth through the pain, needing to keep myself under control. It was those memories that haunted me at night and kept me coming back to the hospital to work. I hadn’t been able to help the people from that day so long ago, but I could help people in the here and now.

I started up my bike, put it in gear, and took off. I needed food and rest. Tomorrow everything would be better. I’d get Mrs. Singleton to stick to her promise to try the insulin pump. God knew Phil would just fuck things up. Besides, I wanted to help her get home so I’d know where to come to check on her and make sure she was using her pump correctly. I also needed to put the fear of God into her daughter and grandson. I was pretty sure they were trying to keep her out of a nursing home so they could keep her Social Security check and that simply wasn’t going to happen.

With a sigh, I pulled into the parking area of a little outside café I often frequented after work. Helped me to wind down and catch my breath. Occasionally I’d run into someone who knew me, but the hospital was in Palm Beach so it wasn’t often. It was also the place where I’d met the most interesting woman I’d ever encountered.

Her name was Cecilia, but she went by CeCe. I thought she was an escort, but the jury was still out. She was here nearly every evening. I found I simply liked talking to her. She was intelligent, with a quirky personality. She could carry on a conversation about almost anything with some degree of knowledge. But it was her eyes that intrigued me. She had the look of someone who’d seen far more than a person of her years should have. I doubt she was much out of her teens, but she seemed to take in everything around her. Several times I’d tested her. Dropping observations about things around us or small details about someone walking down the sidewalk. She always knew the answers. Like me, she always chose a table that let her have the best view of the area with her back against the building.

Walking to my usual table, I glanced around, looking for CeCe. Because of the long conversation with Mrs. Singleton, I was a little late so I could have missed her. I hoped not because I could really use her refreshing personality. The girl really was a rare treasure. I thought about prying into her life, finding out exactly what she did and who she worked for, seeing if my suspicions were correct, but we had a comfortable relationship. Basically, we spoke when we were at this café, and that was it. I didn’t see her anywhere else. We didn’t talk about anything personal. Sometimes we never even looked at each other. Just… talked. About everything and nothing. Nonsense. Whatever was on our minds. I was about to leave when I saw her.

CeCe was dressed in a tight, short red skirt with a white billowy top that cinched around her middle above her waist. A black bustier pushed her breasts up and together, giving her mouth-watering cleavage. Her hair was a straight, gleaming mass dark as a raven’s wing reaching below her waist. This was her usual attire and I’d learned a couple of months ago to live with the hard-on I got seeing her in these outfits.

She sat along the brick wall of the building beside the café, as usual, one table between us. We didn’t acknowledge each other or speak. She simply caught the attention of Teddy. He owned the place and was always there, even if he had someone else working.

“The usual, Teddy.”

“Chocolate pie and a coffee coming up, darlin’.”

“Thanks.” Everything inside me settled. I hid my smile and said nothing. Instead, I picked up a book I’d been reading the last several days while I drank a cup of coffee and ate a sandwich. This evening it was chicken salad.

“You still reading about the guy who kills that old lady and then spends the whole book freaking out about it? Raskolnikov, right?”

I grinned. “Crime and Punishment. Yeah, kid.” I didn’t look up from my book, but I never did. It was a game we played, where we pretended indifference. It was one we were both comfortable with. “I always found him to be an interesting character -- tormented by his own guilt. Unable to escape the consequences of his actions.”

She snorted. “It’s always something, I guess. Life torments us all in one way or another.”

I thought about that. “Can’t say you’re wrong there.”

“‘Course, I’m not wrong.” She sounded bitter. Not for the first time, I wondered if I was right and she was an escort. She was always very well put together. Even the revealing clothing she wore was done with taste. Her hair was always perfect, her makeup just so. Her body was well toned, fine muscle playing beneath her skin when she moved. I’d never seen such perfectly formed arms on a woman before. They were muscled but sleek. Feminine.

With one last bite of pie, she slapped a couple bills down on the table and stood. She started to leave, then stopped and turned her head to face me. “You think Raskolnikov would’ve done any better if he’d had someone? You know, someone who had his back?”

“Who knows?” I shrugged. A darkness crept into her gaze even though her face was carefully blank. This, I didn’t like. “But I do believe there are times when the ends do justify the means. Maybe not in Raskolnikov’s case, but…”

“Yeah.” She looked away, putting her shoulders back. “Sure.”

“See you tomorrow?” I’d never pushed her before. Never asked when I’d see her or if she’d be back. But my instinct was screaming at me that something was wrong.

She shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe.”

“Take it easy, CeCe.” I forced myself to let it go even though I wanted to push even harder, to make her tell me what was going on and how I could help. Because if ever there was a woman who needed help, it was CeCe.

About the Author

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts (which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.

 

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