Morgue (Iron Tzars MC #11) Read Online Marteeka Karland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Tags Authors: Series: Iron Tzars MC Series by Marteeka Karland
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Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
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Chapter Four

Morgue

It had been a long time since rage had hit me this hard. The look on Dorothy’s face told me Stitches words had really hurt her. There was a combination of disbelief, horror, then unadulterated rage. Also, I was pretty sure she was fighting back tears. So help me God, if she cried because of what Stitches said…

She clung to me, her body erupting in sweat as we stood there. I grunted, lifting her in my arms. The stupid rubber tube was wrapped around one leg and I wasn’t sure if it was pulling at her or not, so I sat on the bed with her because the bag was still hanging from the frame.

“Did I hurt you?” I wasn’t talking to Stitches. Far as I was concerned, he deserved what he got. Bastard went too far.

“I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his neck.

I shot him a look. “Like I give a good Goddamn if you’re fuckin’ fine.” Stitches grinned. Bastard.

“I’m OK, Morgue.” Dorothy looked up at me, reaching up to touch my cheek before pulling her hand back just shy of my beard. Like she thought she didn’t have the right to touch me. “Really.”

“He had no right to say what he did, Dorothy. He’s a fuckin’ doctor. Everyone works through trauma differently. Ain’t his place to say how you deal.”

“I know. I think he does too. Probably said that to see your reaction more than mine.”

“Keep that one, Morgue.” Stitches grinned at me. “You ain’t good enough for her, but if you’re half as smart as I think you are, you’ll convince her you can be so she’ll stay.”

“You don’t know me,” Dorothy said, narrowing her eyes at Stitches. If I’d been in a different frame of mind, or if I hadn’t lost my soul years ago, I might have been amused at how cute she looked. Right now, though, I wasn’t capable of anything other than baring my teeth at the bastard. “I could be a horrible person. Or not very bright or any number of things. You’d really wish a stranger on your friend like that?”

“Honey.” Stitches looked down at her gently. “I’ve been talking with the women who got out with you. They told me how you hadn’t been there as long as the rest of them, but you’d started trying to protect the younger ones the day you got there. One woman said you rarely ate because you gave your scraps to the children. She said none of the rest of them did. They were all just trying to survive. I might not know you, but I know enough about you to know you’re a good person.”

She took a breath. “Let’s table that discussion for another time. Right now, I want this stupid tube gone.”

“All right. Let me deflate the bulb, then I’ll leave you to it.”

Stitches did his thing, then looked at me. “Come on. Let’s give her some privacy.”

“No.”

Stitches scrubbed a hand over his face. “Morgue --”

“No.” Dorothy patted my chest but looked up at Stitches. It was like she knew I was getting ready to lay into the doc again and was trying to soothe the beast inside me. “It’s all right. He won’t look if I tell him not to.”

“You trust him?”

“He saved me. I’ll trust him unless he gives me a reason not to.”

Stitches gave a sigh. “Fine. But I’m sending Iris and Winter. The women are already taking care of the others we rescued. They wanted to be here with you too, but this brute told them he had it covered.”

“Who are Iris and Winter?” Instead of asking Stitches, the bastard, Dorothy looked up at me like my answer determined whether or not she wanted the women there. And I’ll be a son of a bitch if my chest didn’t puff out. Just a little.

“Iris is our president’s old lady. Winter belongs to our enforcer. Winter has a twin sister who is our vice president’s old lady.”

“Why would they want to be here? To size me up?” Then her eyes widened, and she stood up, snatching her hands from my chest. I didn’t like it and a growl escaped before I could stop myself. “President. Enforcer. What kind of place is this?” She took several steps back, stopping only when the rubber catheter between her legs pulled tight where she was basically tethered to the bed. I absolutely could not stand the distance she was putting between us. “I’m not some kind of whore! I know you pulled me out of that hell, but I’m not trading it for another kind of hell!”

I wanted to tell her that, no, this wasn’t the same thing, that any women here were here because they wanted to be. That we took care of our own. And that, by God, she wasn’t fucking anyone but me! I opened my mouth to say just that, but the words wouldn’t come. Not because I didn’t believe them, but because, for some stupid reason, I was… tongue-tied around the woman. There was no other way to describe it. I wanted to talk, to make sense and everything, but I didn’t seem to be able to.


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