Bones MC Legends, Book One
Motorcycle Club Romance
Date Published: 7/26/24
Publisher: Changeling Press
Somerset, Kentucky. My home. Or it was. Coming back from Nam was a
friggin’ shock. No one wanted us there, but no one really wants us
back here, either. In their eyes, we’re all guilty. Guess I feel the
same way about them. I don’t belong anywhere. Maybe I never really
did.
Except with Mama. For me, meeting Mama was like a dime novel. Fell for her
almost the moment I laid eyes on her. Knew she’d be mine after our
first kiss. Of course, convincing her took a little time. But it’s
because of Mama I have a home and people I care about now. I may be a badass
soldier, but she’s the hardest, coldest warrior I ever met. Yet she
has more compassion in her than any ten people I know.
This is the story of how Bones MC was born, and why Mama and me keep to the
shadows. Since we met, we’ve always had each other’s backs. No
one knows all our secrets, not even those closest to us. Other people have
come and gone in our lives, but it’s always been me and Mama. This is
our story.
Excerpt
Copyright ©2024 Marteeka Karland
Sgt. Michael (Mike) Wilbanks
Louisville, Kentucky, 1968
“This right here is some happy horseshit.”
I glanced at the woman beside me who spoke in a low, wistful tone.
She’d been on the same plane as I had coming from San Francisco.
Though the bag she carried had an Army medical insignia, she’d dressed
in street clothes. There was a hard look about her that I’d seen many
times during my tours in Vietnam. We hadn’t spoken during the flight,
but she was hard not to notice.
She looked to be in her mid to late twenties, carrying herself with the
confidence of a warrior. My eye had been drawn her way automatically from
the moment she’d stepped on the plane. I’d pegged her as the
most dangerous person on the plane — other than myself. Looking at her now,
I was reevaluating that notion. The woman might be even more dangerous than
I was.
“One’d think those people had jobs to go to.” I
wasn’t sure if that was the “happy horseshit” she was
referring to, but I chose to make it about the protesters. I’d
encountered groups like this in every fucking airport I’d stopped in
on my way back. To say I was spoiling for a fight was the understatement of
the fucking century.
“One would think.” The woman didn’t look my way or seem
interested in conversation. Instead, she was scanning the crowd. Not like
she was looking for someone in particular, though. I’d seen that look
many times. She was looking for a threat. VC on the trail!
I shook my head, shaking away the memory. The war wasn’t over yet,
but it was for me. “You expecting trouble?” Her vigilance — and
my own demons — had my radar pinging.
“Always.”
I had travel plans, but there was something about the woman that made me
walk beside her through the Louisville terminal instead of making my way to
my own gate. She was tall, maybe five-ten, with shoulder-length
strawberry-blonde hair. She wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off lean,
muscular arms. Everything about her screamed confidence, strength, and
control. I’d met a few Army nurses who had similar looks about them,
but this woman was different. She carried herself with purpose, her duffle
slung over her shoulder like my own. Like she was on a mission and no one
was going to stop her, even if she had to kill to get them out of her way.
She didn’t speak again or acknowledge me, but she didn’t tell me
to back off, either.
The terminal wasn’t particularly crowded, though there might have
been a hundred people in the area. All I wanted to do was secure the bike
I’d procured the second I’d gotten back to the States and
fucking ride. I’d been offered a chance to join an MC called Iron
Tzars, but I wasn’t sure they were really my thing. Their causes were
noble and any killing they did wasn’t indiscriminate, but I’d
had my fill of death in country. Even for those who needed killing.
Boom!
A shot rang out and all around us people screamed, ducking for cover.
Boom!
A nearby window shattered as the round hit, sending glass shattering to the
floor and the concrete outside. I scanned the crowd for the shooter before
glancing where I knew the woman had stood. Same as me, she was looking
around for the shooter. I saw the exact moment she spotted him. Her features
hardened and she looked angry as fuck as she squatted next to me, behind the
nearby counter. “Fucker’s military.”
“Can’t say I blame him given the reception we got when we
landed. Wouldn’t be my first choice of things to do,
though.”
Her gaze went to mine. “You any good in a fight?”
I shrugged. “Good as any, I guess. Ain’t armed.”
She shook her head. “Me neither.”
“Got a plan?” If she didn’t, I’d come up with one,
but this woman looked like she’d been expecting trouble and knew how
to deal with it. If she knew the soldier in question or had known this was
going to happen, she’d have a plan. I’d follow her lead until
she proved she didn’t know what she was doing. One thing I’d
learned in Nam was that often it wasn’t the most educated man or the
highest-ranking officer who could get you out alive.
“He’s not aiming at anyone in particular. I’ll talk to
him. See if I can get him to surrender peacefully. You position yourself
behind him and be ready.” She gave me a pointed look.
“I’ll be counting on you to take him down before he shoots
me.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. “Maybe I better try to talk to
him.”
She gave me an exasperated huff. “Do you honestly think I can take
him down myself? I’m strong, but he’s easily twice my
size.”
“You ain’t makin’ this easy, woman.”
“What’s so fuckin’ difficult about it?”
Her scowl was hard enough to trigger my well-trained instincts. I wanted to
snap a salute and bark out, Yes, sir!
“Be ready. Take him down if he looks like he’s gonna shoot me
or anyone else.” She tilted her head, giving me a puzzled stare.
“You ain’t got battle fatigue, do you? You don’t act like
you’ve had all you can take.”
“No. I’m good.” I scrubbed a hand over my face.
“Just don’t like puttin’ a woman out front to use as bait.
I should be the one takin’ the risks.”
“Well, I mean, if you want to risk your life when he’ll
probably be able to shake me off the second I go for him, fine by me. But I
trust you in that regard more than you should trust me. The odds of you
gettin’ killed are way higher than me.”
I stared at her until another boom went off followed almost immediately by
another window shattering. “You’re gonna give me all kinds of
fuckin’ trouble, ain’t you?”
She grinned. “Trouble’s my middle name. Get in position.
I’ll wait until you’re behind him.” She pointed at the
barrier next to the stairs and I saw where she meant.
“Yeah, that’s where I thought I’d wait. I’ll let
you know when I’m ready.”
We stared at each other hard for a moment before she spoke.
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Sergeant Michael Wilbanks. At least, that was my rank when I was
discharged.”
“Honorable?” She raised an eyebrow.
I rolled my eyes and pointed at my Army issue fatigues. “Of course.
Still wearin’ the uniform, ain’t I? Re-upped after my initial
tour. Not this time, though. Had enough of the killin’.”
She nodded. “Dr. Josephine Peyton, Captain, US Army. Or I was. You
can call me Jo. I got a four-six-one discharge for ‘inadequate
personality’ ‘cause I told a general touring our field hospital
to suck my dick when he said the men in my ward were sacrificed for the
greater good, then couldn’t tell me what the fucking greater good
was.”
I couldn’t contain my bark of laughter. “Promise me, when this
is over, you’ll let me take you out on a date.”
Josephine smirked. “Well, I guess that depends on whether
you’re able to take this guy down or not. I won’t go out with a
pussy.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
She shrugged. “If it gets this guy to stop shootin’ the place
up, take it however you like.”
Another boom broke the moment. People screamed all around us, but the only
person I saw was Jo and her pale blue eyes. Before I could think too much
about it, I leaned in and wrapped my hand around the back of her neck,
pulling her in for a hard kiss.
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
