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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Clutch, our road captain, stopped the truck at an angle so we’d have a better defensive position if these bastards were in any shape to fight back. The three of us in the Humvee with the women jumped out and moved quickly toward the wrecked vehicle.

Three men had been thrown from the wrecked vehicle. Each man I passed, I shot in the head twice. Just to make sure. The driver of the truck groaned. Deacon reached him first. When Deacon didn’t immediately shoot the bastard, I raised my gun to do the job.

“Morgue, stop!” I ground my teeth in frustration as Brick, the vice president of Iron Tzars, shoved my gun hand upward to prevent the kill. “We need to get some answers from someone in this fucking cesspool. With everyone else dead, he’s nominated.”

“Needs to die,” I bit out.

“He will.” Brick put himself between me and the bastard. I growled and tried to peer around Brick, but he was a wide son of a bitch. “Just not before he tells us who else is involved in this ring.” When I still tried to get around him, Brick slammed the palm of his hand against the middle of my chest, forcibly making me stop. “Morgue,” Brick said warningly. “Back the fuck off. Now.”

I grunted before turning away and stomping back to the truck. We’d only managed to rescue five women from that place. Of the three other women in those rooms, two were already dead and the last one died when we tried to move her. One of the five we had in the truck looked like she might be barely in her teens. If that. All of them were in pretty bad shape, but the woman I’d carried out seemed to be the worst. I calculated the odds she’d make it back to Evansville at about thirty percent.

As I approached the truck, one of the women gave a strangled cry. There was a commotion and a lot of thumping before there was another yelp.

“You’re all right. You’re all right.” Stitches, the club doctor, tried to soothe his patient. When I reached the truck and poked my head under the tarp, I saw him hold out a bottle of water to the woman I’d helped earlier. She looked decidedly more awake but more than a little terrified. “Just took the edge off the drug they gave you.”

“What the fuck’d you do to ’er?” The demand came from me before I even truly realized I was going to speak.

Stitches glanced over his shoulder at me with a raised eyebrow. “Gave her some Narcan. They had her doped up. Bit harsh when it hits.”

“Then why’d you do it? She was breathin’ on her own and shit.”

The look Stitches gave me had my back up. It was the look a doctor gave an armchair quarterback when being questioned about something medical. “Several reasons. First and foremost, because it’s none of your Goddamned business. I’m the fuckin’ doctor. Not you. You don’t get to question me.”

I ground my teeth together as I holstered my pistol. I’d already slung my rifle around my neck and secured it to my vest. I needed both weapons at the ready in case there were more of these fuckers we’d missed. The woman sat up, her breathing harsh and ragged. Her eyes were wide open, and she’d started to sweat. “She still looks like crap, but she looked better before you started workin’ on her. What the fuck, Stitches?”

He huffed out an annoyed breath. “Either go looking for more of those bastards or shut up and get in the damned truck.”

“Your bedside manner needs a little work,” I groused, but I climbed in the back of the Humvee. I heard a couple more shots around us, then Deacon and Smoke hopped back in and Crush took off. The woman screamed, swatting at Stitches and looking around wide-eyed.

“Ohmigod! What happened? Holy shit!” She looked at Stitches, but her gaze darted around like she was trapped and looking for someone to pounce on her.

“Just a little take-me-down.” Stitches was only half paying attention to her as he fiddled with her IV, injecting something into it that seemed to help her. She didn’t have that drugged look about her she had before, but she wasn’t jumping out of her skin. “There. Try to take some deep breaths. The medicine I gave you will wear off in thirty minutes, so don’t fight it when it happens.”

“I don’t want to be like that again. I need to have my wits about me.” She looked terrified. As she should be.

“I know and I’m sorry. I’ll get you more as soon as we get on the plane, but I’ve only got a limited supply, so unless I’m afraid you’re gonna lose your airway I’m gonna have to let it wear off. Just needed to make sure there was nothing that needed immediate medical attention. Now, look at me.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before letting her breath out slowly. When she opened her eyes, she was steadier. “Good. Now. What’s your name?” Stitches spoke kindly but firmly, taking charge without being bossy or abrasive.


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