Tag Archives: Suspense

Walker Teaser Tuesday

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(Iron Tzars MC)

Contemporary Romance, Suspense, Motorcycle Club, Age Gap

Date Published: June 9, 2023

 

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Blossom — My life is about as complicated as it can get. To fulfill his
political aspirations, my stepfather has decided to sell me to a man who can
take him to the governor’s seat. He’s always been abusive,
demanding I be perfect in public, silent in private, and obey him in all
things. After we moved to Evansville, Indiana, I spent months trying to find
the perfect protector, looking for the biggest, bravest, meanest man I could
find. Then I meet Walker from the motorcycle club, Iron Tzars. He’s
everything I need, everything I want, and nothing I can handle. But
he’s the one. And I’m determined for him to make me his.

Walker — I’m emotionally unavailable, a mean bastard on the best of
days. Serving my country as a Dog Handler for the Army, finding explosives
meant to kill my fellow soldiers and innocent people, left me with emotional
scars I never thought I’d get over. I lost my fiancée, my
partner, and my ability to empathize with anything. Hell, I even refused to
name the dog that took up with me and refused to leave, simply calling her
Dog. Then this lost little waif worms her way into a compound full of
hardasses who never allow outsiders. Of all the men in this club, the little
fool sets her sights on me. Time to set her straight. Only, I might have
gone too far. If Blossom doesn’t survive this, it’s on me. And I
might have accidentally fallen for her.

 

WARNING: Graphic violence, adult situations, and references to human
trafficking and domestic abuse that may be triggers for some readers.
Features a grumpy hero and a feisty heroine. Eventual happy ending and NO
cheating, as always.

 

 

Walker paperback

 

 

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 Marteeka Karland

 

Walker

Downing the shot of Jack I’d just poured for myself, I did my best to
ignore the feminine laughter coming from the other side of the clubhouse
common room. Blossom Evergreen was a fucking trial to the most patient of
men and a pain in my fucking ass. She was always there. Always right in my
line of sight or upwind of me so I had to smell that clean, fresh scent that
always clung to her. Reminded me of spring flowers or some fucking
shit.

A crash followed by a startled yelp had me pouring another drink. The woman
was also the biggest klutz known to man.

“Sorry!” The lyrical sound of Blossom’s voice shot
through me and went straight to my cock. Even knowing she’d likely
plowed over some club girl.

“Watch where you’re goin’, bitch!”

“I’m so sorry, Star! I’ll clean it up.”

“Damned straight you will!”

“Cut it out, Star!” Another club girl came to Blossom’s
aid. I knew better than to look. If I did, I’d be obliged to step in,
and if I did, every fucking club girl East of the Mississippi would be all
the fuck over me. Any hint of interest in a woman by any of the brothers
brought them in droves. They were very territorial of the unattached men in
the club.

“It’s all right, Didi. I was at fault. I’ll clean it
up.” Blossom’s voice was subdued now. Almost subservient.

“You cut it out too, Blossom! She plowed around the corner right into
you! This ain’t your fault.”

“If she hadn’t been making a nuisance of herself, tripping all
over herself and everyone else to try and get close to Walker for two
fuckin’ months, the club’d be a better fuckin’
place!”

“You don’t like it here, say the word, Star.” Atlas, the
sergeant at arms for the club, said. “I’ll be happy to take you
out.” He didn’t even stop as he passed. Just laid down his edict
and kept going. There was no doubt he’d follow through. And the
follow-through meant the woman wouldn’t be leaving. No one left Iron
Tzars. Member, old lady, prospect, or club whore. They all knew it and
respected it. Which was good. Last thing I wanted to do was to have to come
to Blossom’s defense and encourage the girl further. Because Star was
right. Blossom was making a nuisance of herself.

“Don’t listen to her,” Didi encouraged. “Come with
me. I’ll take you to the old ladies.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t want anyone giving
you grief, Didi.”

Didi laughed. And no. Her laugh didn’t affect me the way fucking
Blossom’s did. And who named their kid Blossom Evergreen anyway? The
woman was a walking menace, and for some stupid reason my dick had zeroed in
on her and was growing increasingly demanding.

“Don’t worry about her. She’ll fall in line just like
everyone else. The patched members run a tight ship. You don’t get in
here unless you know the score.”

Except, I didn’t think Blossom did know the score. She wasn’t a
club girl, or an old lady. She was the friend of all the old ladies. Which
made her someone we protected since it would upset the women if something
happened to their friend. It also made it difficult for everyone to figure
out exactly what her position in our midst was. No one knew quite what to do
with her.

I knew what I wanted to do with her. It involved spanking her ass, then
fucking it. Neither of which was the best idea, or one I welcomed. I hated
being around people, and Blossom Evergreen wasn’t the type of woman to
have a casual hook-up. She hadn’t made a move on any of the brothers.
Hadn’t made a move on me, though it was painfully obvious she wanted
to. Given the fact any woman I fucked had to be able to hold her own,
including taking what she needed instead of pussyfooting around, Blossom was
definitely not a woman I wanted to get mixed up with.

Didi looped her arm through Blossom’s and walked her over to three of
the women in the club who’d been claimed by members of Iron Tzars.
“Stay away from Star,” Didi said as they approached the table.
“She won’t do anything while you’re near the guys, but
she’ll chew you up and spit you out if she catches you by
yourself.”

“Who will chew her up?” Winter raised an eyebrow while her
sister, Serelda, leaned forward, her attention on the club girl.

“Star. Most of the club whores, really.” Didi smiled, but gave
the old ladies a solemn look. “She staying with anyone?”

Iris shook her head. “No. But she’s with us. You tell the girls
she’s off-limits.” The president’s woman was growing into
her role. She didn’t often give orders, but when she did, she expected
them to be obeyed. I had to admire her for that. All of them, really. They
never backed down from anyone. Not anymore. Bellarose hadn’t been with
Atlas that long, but given she was the daughter of Alexi Petrov, no one was
worried she’d have problems holding her own. Alexi being a one-third
owner of Argent Tech and the acknowledged leader of the Shadow Demons. No.
Bellarose would probably think club girls beneath her. If she chose to put
one in her place, she’d do it hard. Winter and Serelda were especially
aggressive. I didn’t know their stories, but I could tell by the scars
on each woman they hadn’t had it easy. They also didn’t bow down
to anyone, especially a club whore.

Didi grinned. “Happy to. I happen to think the world of Blossom, and
she’s too sweet to tell them where to get off.”

 

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.

 

Author’s Instagram and Twitter: @MarteekaKarland

 

Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress

 

Pre-Order Today

 

 

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Atlas Teaser Tuesday

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Iron Tzars MC, Book 4

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: May 12, 2023

 

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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.

 

Atlas paperback

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.

Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on BookBub

Author on Instagram

 

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

 

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Roman Teaser Tuesday

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(Iron Tzars MC)

Contemporary Romance, Suspense, Motorcycle Club, Age Gap

Date Published: February 10, 2023

 

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Winter — My life hasn’t been easy. For so long, my sister has been
the only one I could rely on. When we were teenagers our father sold us to
sexual predators who hurt us. We both have the scars to prove it. But we
were rescued, and I got revenge for both of us. That was over a decade ago.
I love the home we found with Black Reign, but now it’s time to move
on. To live outside the cocoon the club wrapped us in. Another club
who’s found a girl in a situation similar to the hell we left behind
all those years ago may be our answer. One man in particular calls to me on
a primitive level. His name is Roman. And I want him for my own.

Roman — I’m the enforcer for Iron Tzars. Violence is in the job
description. Never thought I’d find myself attracted to a woman as
fragile as Winter. She and her sister have been through a lot, but
there’s a core of iron in her. She’s stronger than she looks,
and the fight in her stirs the primitive Alpha male inside me. It’s
time I show her she’s more than the sum of her scars. She’s a
friggin’ goddess.

 

Roman tablet

EXCERPT

 

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2023 Marteeka Karland

 

Roman

I’d never been so glad to leave a place behind as I cheerfully rolled
out of Lake Worth, Florida. I did my part as enforcer for Iron Tzars, but
the entire time we’d been there I felt like we were outgunned. Black
Reign MC might not be a rival club, but they were by no means safe. As
evidenced by the way they took care of business with the fucking men
we’d caught taking orphans from the group home in the city.

Violence didn’t bother me. If a motherfucker deserved it, there was
no limit. My balls were twitching because of the casual ease with which that
bastard, Chief, had taken the skin off the men he tortured. Yeah, Brick had
participated, but our VP was emotionless on the best of days. Chief and El
Diablo were different. I wouldn’t say they enjoyed the act, but I
wouldn’t say they didn’t, either. It hadn’t bothered them
in the least.

But what really had me glad to see this place in my rear view were the twin
women who haunted the place like ghosts. Eerily lovely, they always seemed
to be where I was. Neither said anything, but they stared at me constantly.
More than one of Black Reign’s members gave me the stink-eye over it,
too though no one would tell me why. Only that I should stay away from them.
I didn’t even know the pair’s names, for fuck’s sake!
Didn’t want to know!

I drove the Bronco we’d taken as a chase vehicle down to Lake Worth.
Normally I’d ride my bike with the other brothers, but someone had to
drive the big thing back to Evansville. As Road Captain, the task would
normally fall to Clutch, but he’d had a family emergency and had
headed back early. After that, I’d drawn the short straw. My bike was
stowed in the trailer, and here I was. Behind the wheel of a fucking
cage.

Lost in thought, my eyes on the road as my brothers surrounded the cage in
front and behind, I reached over and switched on the radio. I had no desire
to dwell on another club. Not even one our former president — and my
long-time friend — now belonged to. I was an enforcer in Iron Tzars. Not
Sergeant at Arms. I didn’t need to find trouble, only punish it.
Besides, if Sting — our current president and son to the former president
— had decided Warlock had to be killed for his infractions against the
club, I would be responsible for carrying out the sentence. I didn’t
want to do that. It looked like El Diablo had forestalled anything in that
regard, though I had no idea why. It was rare for anyone to leave the Iron
Tzars. When they did, the situation was permanent. Warlock was only the
second man I knew of not to die when he left or was asked to leave. Oh,
well. Above my paygrade. I was just thankful I didn’t have to kill my
brother.

A tap on my shoulder had my head whipping around. When I saw that same
eerily lovely face I’d been trying not to think about right next to
mine, I was so startled I jerked the wheel. The girl squealed and
disappeared from my immediate vision.

“What the fuck?” The Bronco hit the rumble strips on the
shoulder. My tires must have squealed, because several of the riders in
front of us either glanced over their shoulder or turned their head slightly
to look in their mirrors. They moved to the center lane in case I was out of
control. When I slowed and pulled fully onto the shoulder, they
followed.

I got as far over as I could but didn’t turn on my flashers. Though
we weren’t hauling any contraband, I’d rather not enlist the
help of a good Samaritan or, God forbid, the state police.

Once stopped, I put the thing in park and turned around. “What the
everlasting, God forsaken fuck are you doing in my fuckin’
vehicle?” I growled at the girl but tried not to yell. I got the
feeling she was fragile and, though I was angry, I didn’t want to
scare her. As I spoke, the other one poked her head from behind the backseat
in the cargo area. “Shoulda guessed. You two ain’t ever far
apart.” There was a knock at my window, saving the girls from a
lecture.

Instead of rolling down the window, I opened the door and stepped out. The
two girls ducked back behind the seat, the first one having returned to what
had probably been their hiding place in my fucking Bronco.

“You good?” Brick peered inside the vehicle, looking for a
threat. His hand was on the gun at his hip, but he didn’t draw.

“Yeah. Just realized I had a couple of stowaways.”

Brick raised an eyebrow. Instead of explaining, I walked him around to the
back and opened the tail door for him to see for himself. They were hiding
behind cargo, but both of them poked their heads up when I opened the door
so I could see their eyes and the top of their heads over their hiding
place.

“Fuck.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You two in
trouble?”

One of them shook her head. The other girl shrank back.

“You know you can’t stay with us. We’ll have to take you
back.”

“No.” The braver of the two shook her head. “We want to
stay with you.”

“You afraid to go back?” Brick crossed big arms over his brawny
chest. “They hurt you?”

Black Reign didn’t seem like the type of club to hurt women. They
were protective as all get out of any of the women under their care,
especially these two. The idea that any woman might be running from that
club didn’t sit well with me, but the thought that either of these
women had an issue with them made me want to drive back and beat the fuck
out of someone.

“No,” she said in a soft voice. “It was time to
leave.”

I looked at Brick. “We’re only an hour from home. We could let
Black Reign know once we get back to the clubhouse.”

“Let me check with Sting. He may know something we don’t. If
not, he’ll decide what to do.”

“Can we please stop at a gas station or something?” The braver
one raised her head farther as she spoke. “It’s why I bothered
you. We need a bathroom break.”

“You shoulda said something before now,” I groused.
“We’ve been on the fuckin’ road for twelve fuckin’
hours! Stopped twice! Why didn’t you get out then?”

“We were afraid we wouldn’t be quick enough, and we’d get
left behind.” Her voice was almost musical but soft. And it affected
me like a gentle stroke down my chest headed straight to my cock. I needed
to squash that feeling hard. This girl wasn’t up to taking me on, even
if she’d wanted to.

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I can’t fuckin’ believe
this. Get your asses in the back seat and buckle up.” I thought
they’d get out the back, but both of them climbed over the back seat
and did as instructed.

“Jesus, Roman, could you sound any more like a fuckin’ old
man?”

“Shut the fuck up, Brick.” Then I muttered under my breath.
“Motherfucker.”

A couple miles down the road, Brick pulled the group over at a
Buc-ee’s and everyone in the club surrounded the Bronco as the women
got out. And they were women, not older girls like I’d first thought.
The shy one shrank behind her sister when the men crowded around them both.
We didn’t get into their personal space, but it was something that
would have probably freaked any woman out.

“Jesus, guys, back off ‘em!” Iris, Sting’s
ol’ lady, was going to be a great match for our president. “Are
you trying to frighten them to death?”

Sting chuckled, watching as his woman went to my stowaways. “Better
do what she says, boys. She’s a force of nature when she wants to
be.”

Naturally, we didn’t need Sting’s OK to back off. The girls
looked terrified. The braver one had a determined look on her face as she
lifted her chin. “We’re not fragile. There’re a lot of
you. And you’re all big.”

“Of course, you’re not fragile.” Iris took her hand and
reached for the other one. “Everyone, this is Winter. Her sister here
is Serelda.”

“You know them well, baby?” Sting stood close to his woman, but
not close enough to spook the other two.

“No. But I’m looking forward to getting to know
them.”

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Climate of Monsters: Friulian Son Blitz

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Climate of Monsters Series, Book One

Suspense, Dark Fantasy, Supernatural Thriller, Horror

 Published: June 28, 2022

 

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Climate of Monster is a book of two incredible but unlikely heroes that
intertwine to fight legendary mythical monsters and new creations that are
rampant due to climate change. Our heroes include a young Italian master
swordsman, and a dangerous Swedish woman who is both a special forces expert
and medical doctor. Book 1: Friulian Son features incredible monsters that
are larger than life: from biker werewolves, sea monsters, anthropomorphic
squirrels, and a human hybrid cuttlefish (among many others).

Book Two Climate of Monsters: Breath of Fire is due out later in
2023.

 

About the Author

Mitchell Sanders

Mitchell Sanders is just another ordinary individual. As a scientist and
serial entrepreneur, in his spare time he enjoys reading and writing horror
books. His inspirations come from his lovely wife and best friend,
Elisabeth, and three children and three grandchildren, who encouraged him to
write and finish his first book. Mitch spent a good portion of his life
studying biomedical sciences and advanced wound care. He has a BA in biology
from Boston University with a minor in Latin language and literature, and an
MS in molecular biology and a PhD in biomedical sciences, both from
Worcester Polytechnic Institute (WPI). Mitch did two postdocs at the
Whitehead Institute / MIT, a world-renowned nonprofit research institution
dedicated to improving human health through basic biomedical research. Mitch
is a worldwide expert in wound repair and regeneration. Mitch was formerly
founder and chief executive officer (CEO) of a diagnostic company for
sixteen years and is currently the chief scientifi

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Izzy Virtual Book Tour

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 Book Four of the Maison de Danse Quartet

 

Suspense

Date Published: 12-01-2022

Publisher: Épouvantail Books

 

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What do you do when the legal system refuses to deliver justice?

Izzy knows.

Conducting her own investigations and trials, she’s out on the hunt,
righting wrongs in honor of the victims and their surviving families.

Outlaw revenge has its perils and she’s soon in the fight of her
life.

Sometimes a killer’s own survivors also go on the hunt.

Having kicked their hornet’s nest, Izzy is desperate to take them
out.

Does she have what it takes to battle off her own demons?

Can she stop those who want her dead? 

Izzy tablet

EXCERPT

 

“Good morning, Mr. Bosa,” Judge Lloyd greeted him. “What happened to your face?” He turned to the defense attorney, expecting him to explain. Bosa spoke up instead, his voice soft and nasally, sounding like a mumble-mouthed kid.

“Allergies, not sure.” Bosa looked to his attorney for support.

Your Honor, my client has an infection from the injections he administered.”

“You mean the incident with the plumbing caulking?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“I trust this will not hamper his ability to be present in his hearing.”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Then, let’s move on.”

The hearing began with the formal reading of the planned proceedings for the day. When Judge Lloyd concluded, it was time for the first testimony by a forensic psychologist. There would be three—one for the state, another for the defense, and the third court-appointed.

Over the next hour and a half, one after another discussed their interviews with the defendant and their findings. When you query three forensic psychologists, you get what’s expected. Bosa’s mental illnesses were described as rigid ideation, emotionally restricted, schizophrenic, and a psychotic disorder.

It took Judge Lloyd’s wise and patient mind to reel them in at the end of each of their testimonies, pressing each.

“Bottom line, is he competent to proceed? Does he have the capacity to understand the severity of the charges?”

The answer was yes, all three times.

During all this, I studied Bosa, that deadly twenty-seven-year-old toilet snake. He liked to play with his chair, swiveling it, rocking it back and forth, like a kid with a newfound toy.

Ignoring the proceedings, he was whispering to his lawyer, becoming agitated at times. Owen Mosby was trying to settle him down, eyes to the proceedings, whispering behind his hand.

“Is there a problem with the defendant?” the judge asked, pausing the state attorney’s opening remarks.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Bosa complained.

His attorney stood.

Your Honor, my client is insisting on a change of counsel…”

“He’s not asking the right questions, Your Honor. I want to fire him,” Bosa remained seated, rocking forward, resting his chin on his hand.

“So, we’re clear,” the judge addressed the lawyer, ignoring the defendant. “He’s requesting a Nelson Hearing?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Bosa, I think this is unwise at best,” the judge finally looked at him. “Can you tell me why you’re making this request?”

“Yes, he refused to ask them a question.”

“Which one is that?”

“We need a fourth doctor hired,” Bosa avoided the question. “When all this happened, I was nuts. I hadn’t slept in seven years, and the voice was telling me what to do.”

“I need to remind you that this is a competency hearing, not a trial. We’re here today to determine if you’re fit to stand trial.”

“See, the thing is, Your Honor, my lawyer refuses to get them to admit I’m crazy. That’s why I want to fire him.”

To his credit, Judge Lloyd listened to this respectfully. 

“Mr. Mosby, have you counseled your client as to the serious risk to his case?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Honor. I have repeatedly explained to Mr. Bosa that there’s no ethical way to get experts to testify to what they know isn’t true.”

“But, Your Honor, there’s a doctor in Jacksonville,” Bosa went on. “And if she’s brought in, she can—”
“Mr. Bosa, did you not approve the doctor your counsel hired?” the judge asked.

During all this, the state attorney watched on patiently, letting the absurdity play out.

“Yes, Your Honor, but that was before he didn’t tell the truth.”

“So I’m clear, Mr. Bosa, you want to fire your counsel. Do you have new counsel in mind?”

“I want to represent myself.”

About the Author

Greg Jolley

Greg Jolley earned a Master of Arts in Writing from the University of San
Francisco and lives in the very small town of Ormond Beach, Florida. When
not writing, he researches historical crime, primarily those of the 1800s.
Or goes surfing.

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