Brick (Iron Tzars MC #3) Read Online Marteeka Karland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Tags Authors: Series: Iron Tzars MC Series by Marteeka Karland

Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)

Serelda — Watching my sister find the love of her life has been bittersweet. As much as I’m happy for her, I’m heartsick because I can’t have the man I want. Brick is my rock. The wall between me and the rest of the world. He protects and comforts me. He’s everything I need. But he does it out of pity, feeling sorry for the poor, broken woman who sought refuge in his club. I have to find a way to prove to him I’m worth his time, and that I can be the woman worthy of the VP of Iron Tzars.

Brick — The lovely woman whose name means warrior bewitched me from the first day I saw her. Serelda is scared and vulnerable. The timid sister. I know there is a thread of steel inside her, though. I see flashes of it when I’m least expecting it. So when she runs, though I’m disappointed, I’m not surprised. What catches me off guard is the moment she tases me. I might be a sick individual, but her show of aggression turns me on more than I ever thought possible. Now, I just have to figure out how to claim her without terrifying her. And how to keep her from being taken back to the very man who tormented her more than a decade ago.

WARNING: Graphic violence, adult situations, and references to human trafficking and domestic abuse that may be triggers for some readers. Happy ending and no cheating, as always.

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Chapter One


I’d never been so scared in my life, and I had no one but myself to blame. Getting a train or bus ticket back to Florida had proved more difficult than I’d thought. Orlando was the closest I could get to Lake Worth or Palm Beach, but once I got there, I knew I could call Rycks or Darcy to come get me. My stepsister had gotten closer to me and Winter over the last few years, but I’d still only call her if I couldn’t get hold of someone at Black Reign. I felt too awkward asking her for help.

My sister. Winter. I hadn’t been away from her for more than a few hours, and I already missed her like I’d miss my right arm. I couldn’t tell her I was leaving because she’d insist on coming with me, and she had a chance at a new life in Indiana with the Iron Tzars. Roman adored her. Anyone could see it. There was no way I was going to cost my sister a new life I knew she desperately needed.

I knew I needed it. I thought I might have found it, too. Should have known better. Why would a man like Brick want to be saddled with someone like me? I was broken. Inside and out. Didn’t take a genius to figure it out, either. My scars were the first clue. My face was covered in them. I tried to cover them like my sister did, but it always looked worse. Since I rarely went outside the clubhouse grounds at Black Reign, I didn’t worry about it. Now, though…

I cringed every time someone gave me a pitying look, so I kept my hoodie up and my face in as much shadow as I could. I also sat in the farthest corner of the bus and tried not to draw attention to myself as I let the miles roll by in silence.

“Where’s your pimp, girl?” A man sat next to me, moving into my personal space and mashing me against the window of the bus. We hadn’t made a stop yet, so this guy had boarded in the same place I had. He spoke quietly, but his voice was menacing. My instinct was to draw in on myself, to ignore him and hope he went away, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I’d always relied on Winter to handle people, but I was on my own now. And this situation wasn’t at all safe.

“I’m not a whore -- therefore I have no pimp.” I tried to keep my voice low, even, and filled with as much disdain as possible.

“Don’t fuck with me, bitch,” he bit out, leaning in close, his fingers biting into my upper arm as he grabbed me. He didn’t smell unpleasant… exactly. Rather, he smelled like he’d drowned himself in Axe body spray, which was its own problem, but at least he didn’t smell like body odor or sweaty feet. “I saw your face. Only one man I know of uses that scarring pattern.” He gripped my chin with his other hand and jerked my head toward him, looking intently at my scars like he was inspecting them for authenticity. “Yeah. Looks like he got interrupted. Didn’t finish with you.”

“I was in a car wreck.” It was a line I’d used a few times. Seemed like it might be a good time to use it now.

“Bullshit.” He moved his hand from my arm to trace a particularly prominent scar on my face. When I flinched back, he gripped my chin harder and held me still. He traced one long, raised mark over my cheek that ran the length of my face to my ear. “No. This mark and this one” -- he traced another mark, this one between my eyebrows -- ”are precise and distinct.” I knew the two he touched well. They weren’t as deep or scarred over as some of the others, but they were carved almost like a design. There were several others over my body. Several more on my face. All of them in-between and around the linear cuts made by the second man.

“Let go of me.” My heart pounded. Visions of those days and nights of hell flashed behind my eyes, making me flinch. My breath came in short pants and sweat beaded on my skin. I was headed toward a full-blown panic attack at the worst possible time. I was in danger. Any fool could recognize that. Though the bus was mostly full, no one seemed to notice my distress. On the plus side, as long as I was on the bus, this man couldn’t take me anywhere. Sure, he could kill me, but I’d rather die than repeat the events of thirteen years ago.

“Oh, I don’t think so, little girl. You’re marked by the Cannibal. He only marks those he intends to keep.”