(Grim Road MC)
Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap
Date Published: August 23, 2024
Carlista – When my stepfather decides the best way to get himself out of trouble is to trade me to the man who owns his gambling debts, I know it’s time to get the hell outta Dodge. Before she died, my mother told me my real dad was a hero, but what he’d done in the military was so secret, he had to disappear. She gave me a name and a bunch of numbers to memorize. Made me repeat them every night for as long as I could remember. Just before she died, she told me the words Dominic and Grim Road -- my father’s name and the group he belonged to. The numbers were coordinates for the group’s headquarters -- a motorcycle club where I could find my father. I can’t think of anyone else I can go to for help. But once I find Grim Road’s compound, I realize there are far more dangerous things waiting for me there -- like a man who could steal my heart.
Ringo: When a little spitfire walks up to the gates of Grim Road demanding to see our sergeant at arms, Dominic, I know I’m in trouble. She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place her. Something inside me warns me I need to figure it out fast, though. Preferably before the prospect manning the gate does something to get himself killed. When she refuses to leave, he gives her a good, hard shove. The expression on her face of shock and fear triggers a memory. A little girl -- this girl -- falling backwards off the front porch steps into the flower bed. Calista. Dom’s daughter. Only she’s not a little girl anymore. She’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I'm gonna make her mine. I just need to figure out how to keep her father from killing me.
EXCERPT
When I finally approached the edge of the city, I gave up all pretense of trying to blend in. I took off at nearly a sprint. The longer I was out in the open, the greater the chances Sam or one of Borris’s other men would spot me. I had to make it through a few more city blocks, then across the highway -- another risk since not many people crossed on foot -- and into the woods. Once I had the cover of the trees, I’d find a place to settle down for the night and hopefully make it to the compound tomorrow. I didn’t want to get lost, so I had to take the chance they wouldn’t come this way looking for me. Or, if they did, that they’d wait until daylight, so they had a better chance of tracking me accurately.
All I had was an old compass my mother had given me with a tiny map folded inside tucked into my bra, and the flashlight I’d stolen. No food. No water. No protection from the elements. Just the compass and map, and a flashlight. And stories about a place my mother told me about, but I’d never seen. This was all kinds of crazy, but it was my choice. No one else’s.
By the time I was deep in the woods and far enough away from the road as I could safely get, it was full dark. I didn’t want to use the light yet as it was still early enough Sam might still make a try on the chance I hadn’t gone far, and Sam might still make a try if he could figure out where I’d gone into the woods. Plus, I had no idea how long the battery would last. Hopefully a while. Though I’d thought I was prepared mentally for a couple of days out in the wild on my own, I hadn’t thought about how dark it would actually be. And I wasn’t even thinking about the possibility of snakes.
Or alligators.
The air was thick with humidity, and every leaf seemed to whisper nefarious secrets as I pushed farther into the undergrowth. My limbs ached, my heart pounded in my ears, and fear clung to me like the dense fog that began to roll in from the nearby swamp. The noises of the night grew louder, a cacophony of insects and distant howls that did nothing to ease my nerves.
I tried to keep my breathing steady, reminding myself that panic would only make things worse. The darkness was absolute – even the faint glow of moonlight struggled to penetrate the thick canopy above. Every rustle in the bushes sent a spike of adrenaline through my system. Was the noise from a predator stalking me? Was it Sam? More of my stepfather’s goons? I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of giant snakes or my stepfather. Borris Illivitch was a cold-hearted bastard. When he found out I’d blazed… If he caught me, I’d be in a world of pain. Death would be a release.
I pressed on, trying to use what little moonlight filtered through the tree canopy to guide my steps. Which… yeah. Occasionally, I’d see a sliver of moon, but that was it. The air grew cooler as the damp night deepened, and an occasional breeze should have felt good in the Florida humidity but only seemed to grate on my nerves instead of soothing me. Despite the risks, knowing it was a bad idea to stumble around in the dark, I felt this urgent need to press on. Keep moving. Stay ahead of the thugs I knew would be after me.
I continued on for as long as I could. When I finally reached the point where exhaustion overrode the adrenaline, I leaned against a tree. Not the smartest move, but I was beyond caring at this point. My lungs burned, as did my leg muscles. I was scraped all over, my clothes even ripped in a couple places. The only thing I’d risked in standing out with regard to my appearance was the combat boots I wore. Not uncommon, but also noticeable. Thankfully my suit pants had been flared at the bottom and had hidden them. The boots were the only things allowing me to travel as far as I had.
I knew the general direction I needed to go. My mom had also taught me landmarks in the area to look for by using child’s nursery rhyme. All of which she told me about just days before she died. I’d long ago used virtual maps to find the landmarks she taught me. I was as prepared as I could be.
I finally stopped and took stock of my body. I had some stinging scrapes and at some point I’d twisted my ankle, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t power through. As the silvery moon moved across the sky, the light filtered through the trees lessened. I could barely see my hand in front of my face, let alone anything around me. Or my compass.
I was on solid ground but had no idea what was above or around me. With the adrenaline falling off, I was trembling. Which was creating more panic. I was basically defenseless in unfamiliar territory. Yeah. It was time where the benefits of using the flashlight outweighed the risks.
I switched on the light, shining it around the area. A pair of eyes glowed back at me and I jumped back, sucking in a breath, but the little varmint ran off. At least, I hoped it was little.
“OK. OK.” I was talking out loud, but really, I had to do something other than freak myself out by listening to all the noises around me. Or look for glowing predator eyes. “I got this. Mom said this place was miles and miles of swamp, trees, and forest, but if I was careful, I could make my way through all that to the place my dad lived.
It took a couple of hours, but I finally found a small, rundown shack. Looked like, at one time, it might have been a hunting cabin, or some kind of game-watch post. It wasn’t much bigger than a small storage building but wasn’t completely enclosed. About halfway up the walls, all around, the enclosure was open, at one time covered with a screen. Kept out insects but allowed the occupant to see out in all directions. This was a landmark on my map, and I’d basically stumbled on it.
I went inside the little shack, noting there was nothing inside except a bench fashioned all around the inside perimeter and dirt and leaves. The screens had long ago been torn or had fallen apart leaving only ragged remnants to sway in the slight breeze.
It was ridiculous, but with a roof over my head, even with little protection from anything, I felt a little safer. Not safe, by any means, but more… secure.
I set the light beside me when I sank down onto one of the benches. Carefully, I pulled out my compass and opened it, taking care with the delicate piece of paper folded inside it. Opening it up, I confirmed what I already knew. I needed to head straight northeast. Like, this place had been put in this exact position to use as a landmark. My mother had given me three at various points around the center structure I was trying to get to. Each landmark pointed in a precise direction, so I had no doubt these spots were carefully thought out and deliberately placed as guides. If you knew the coordinates. And had a map. Which I did. A treasure map, if you will.
From my current position, I estimated it would take me about six hours to walk. It wasn’t that far, per se, but walking in the woods and swamp was tricky going. The accepted estimate was to allow thirty minutes for every mile walked. I guess I’d find out how far off that estimate was when I found the place I was looking for.
And my dad. Unfortunately, I had no idea if he knew I existed. If he did, there was every possibility he wouldn’t accept me or even want me in his life. Which was fine. I just needed his protection long enough to make sure Borris Illivitch gave up looking for me.
Turned out, I made better time than I thought I would. Even in the dark. I literally stumbled into a big guy with a full beard. He scowled down at me even as his hands went to my shoulders to steady me. I expected his fingers to bite into my flesh, but he was surprisingly gentle.
“Who the fuck goes there at four-thirty in the fuckin’ mornin’?”
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.
Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
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