(Kiss of Death MC 3)
Motorcycle Club Romance
Date Published: May 16, 2025
May God have mercy on Carrie’s enemies, because I have none.
Carrie -- When I stumble out of the fog into a motorcycle club compound, the guys seem more freaked out over my name (something about an old movie?) than the fact that I’m covered in blood and asking for a jug of sulfuric acid. Not my best moment. Then Hawk steps in. His smile and the careful way he takes care of me steal my heart. I’m asking for heartache, but my whole life has been nothing but pain and disappointment. Just this once, I want to take control, take what I want. And I want Hawk. No matter what happens when my family finds me.
Hawk -- I knew Carrie was trouble the second I laid eyes on her. Of course, she was covered in blood, so, easy call. What I didn’t count on is how completely and quickly I fell under her spell. I might not be ready to admit it, but my brothers know and plan accordingly. Carrie is mine. Even though she’s proven she can take care of herself, whatever trouble she has coming for her will have to go through me.
Warning: Graphic violence and adult content which may be triggers for some
readers. As always, there is a happily ever after with no cheating.
Excerpt
Copyright ©2025 Marteeka Karland
The family reunion continued. Unfortunately, the women weren’t here. “Unfortunately” because I really wanted to see some fireworks tonight. Probably just as well because that feeling I had before was becoming an itch between my shoulder blades I couldn’t ignore.
I stood, acknowledging my brothers as I passed them on the way to the door. I stepped outside and took a deep breath. It was barely summer and already the air was humid and thick with moisture. I welcomed it, though. Inside our little corner of the city we’d created a haven of sorts. One whole city block in the center we turned into a small forest. In the center of that, was a park of sorts where we had a couple of vegetable gardens and several flowerbeds. Wasn’t a very “biker” thing to do, but it was peaceful. At one time or another, after getting out of prison, we all needed the relative quiet and solitude.
“What’s goin’ on, Hawk?” I looked over my shoulder to find Chains. He’d been my cellie for a while, and after I’d gotten out, he found me and brought me to Kiss of Death. We’d helped clean out the trash in the club when they’d picked a fight with the wrong club.
“Don’t know. Somethin’.”
Chains nodded as he stepped beside me. He leaned against the rail in front of the main clubhouse. Crumbled concrete, gravel, and dirt lined the paths that made up the “roads” in our territory. It looked exactly like what it was. A prison of our own making. Only this one was to keep the rest of the world away from us instead of the other way around.
“You got that feelin’ again?” Chains lit a cigarette, the flare of his lighter briefly illuminating the hard planes of his face. He’d been with me long enough to recognize when my instincts kicked in.
I nodded, scanning the perimeter of our compound. “Yeah. Like somethin’s comin’ our way.”
“Something or someone?”
“Fuck if I know.” I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to shake the sensation. My instincts had saved my ass more times than I could count, both on the inside and out. When they started screaming like this, shit was about to go down.
We stood in silence for a few minutes, Chains smoking and me just watching the night. Our guard posts on top of each building were manned. Security lights flooding lights flooding the area close to our fencing provided a little extra protection for the buildings around us. If nothing else, the extra lighting made it easier for their own security cameras to get good imaging of whomever was trying to rip them off.
The sound of laughter and music drifting from the clubhouse behind us usually filled me with contentment. Tonight, it was an irritation. I needed to hear the night around me, to get an idea what was about to hit us.
I ducked under the railing and walked down the gravel path, not sure where I was going but needing to get away from the noise and light. Though the area around our compound was well lit, the interior was dark except for inside the various buildings. The paths between buildings and everything other than the center garden were covered in camo netting. We were as protected as we could be here. So why were my instincts screaming at me? The feeling got worse with each passing moment.
“Hawk?” Chains fell into step beside me, his gaze sweeping the area above the fence line. “You see somethin’?”
I didn’t answer. Wasn’t sure I could because with every second ticking by, my anxiety increased. It wasn’t late, but the high humidity and milder temperatures made the fog coming off the Cumberland River roll in thick as pea soup. Every breath in was heavy and wet, the water vapor tickling my nose. The security lights reflected back, making visibility very far outside our walls nearly impossible.
The moment I saw the small figure emerge from the thick mist, it felt like all the hair stood up on my body. It was definitely a woman, but there was something off about her. I took a step forward. Then another. I was stopped when Chains grabbed my arm.
“Easy, brother. That’s creepy as fuck and I don’t fuckin’ know…” He trailed off. Which is when I got my first good look at the woman, courtesy of the flood lights as she came closer. No mistaking she was heading straight for us with a purposeful stride. “Why’s she covered in mud?”
“Don’t think that’s mud, Hawk.” Chains puffed his chest out and called out to the would-be intruder. “Stop there, little miss. Private property and all that.”
She stopped directly in one spotlight so there was no mistaking her appearance and physical state. “That your blood?” Private property or not, need for secrecy and privacy or not, I absolutely would not deny a woman help who’d lost that much blood.
“What?” She had a confused look on her face, then looked down at herself. “Oh! That. Nah, not my blood. I’m good.” She gave me a bright smile and a big thumbs up. “But I’m kind of in a bit of a bind?” She actually looked like she was genuinely sorry to take up our time. Like she wasn’t covered in blood looking like something out of a horror movie.
I glanced over at Chains. His fists were clenched at his side, his eyes wide. Guy was superstitious as fuck, but I’d never seen him like this. Looking back to the woman, I started to answer when a light flashed over her blood-splattered face and I had to fight off a shudder. Never show weakness. It was a mantra that had served me well. Yet, here I was about to piss myself because of one tiny woman with a little blood on her. OK, so a lot of blood, but how did I know it was even blood? Might be fake blood. Might be animal blood, which was disturbing in itself. Maybe it was mud after all, and the lighting and mist were distorting the colors.
“Yeah, small bind.” She winced and held her thumb and finger an inch apart. “Very small. Almost nonexistent, except it’s not.” Her expression fell slightly. “Um, anyway. I gave the guys every chance to walk away. I swear.” Her eyes were almost comically wide. Like she was a kid trying to talk her parents out of a punishment for something she’d done.
“Gave who a chance to walk away?” The question tumbled from my lips without my consent. I didn’t need to know. Didn’t want to know. The less I knew the better. Ex-con and all. I saw Chains out of the corner of my eye. He gave me a sharp look, but didn’t say anything, either unwilling to show division or to stop the carnage he knew would follow. Yeah. We were sick bastards like that.
“Oh, the guys I stabbed.” She gave a slight, nervous laugh. “I wouldn’t have hurt either of them if one of them hadn’t pulled the knife after I broke the other guy’s leg. And I wouldn’t have broken his leg if he hadn’t tried to hit me.”
“Tried to hit you.” Could I sound any more stupid?
“Yeah. They were trying to rob me and I took exception.”
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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