(Kiss of Death MC)
Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap
Date Published: August 22, 2025
Redemption doesn’t come free. And sometimes, the price is paid in blood.
Pain — When I walked out of Terre Haute Prison, I wasn’t the same man who
went in. I’ve got blood on my hands, but I’m determined to pay my debt and
take back what’s left of my life. Once I’m home, inside the walls of the
motorcycle club that welcomed me when I had no one, I have more hope than I
dared to have the whole time I was incarcerated. Problem is, the past doesn’t
stay buried. When I recognized Nadine, a young woman from my past, and got to
know the woman she’d become, I’d convinced myself there’s no way to be worthy
of a woman like her. Until she’s put squarely in the crosshairs of a situation
she knows nothing about. That’s when it’s time to earn my road name and bring
her enemies a world of hurt.
Nadine — I know better than to fall for an ex-con. I’ve seen the worst of
humanity from inside prison walls where I work as a nurse. But something about
Dr. Raven, or Pain, as they call him, gets under my skin. There was a time
when he was my hero, the person I wanted to be most like. I admit I might have
a huge case of hero worship and the tiniest little crush on him. I don’t know
the rules in his world outside the prison, but I know I need to learn fast.
Especially since corrupt cops seem to be hell-bent on cutting in on the Kiss
of Death territory. It sometimes feels like I’m fighting just to breathe. But
the scariest part? It’s not the blood, the bullets, or the bodies. It’s that I
might actually be falling in love with Ford “Pain” Raven.
A gritty, steamy romance featuring a protective alpha, a fierce heroine who
refuses to break, and the family you choose when the world tries to tear you
apart.
Pain
The minute I stepped foot in the infirmary, the smell of antiseptic hit me
like a damn freight train. It’s the same scent that used to greet me
every morning when I started my day as a surgical intern five years earlier.
That scent had been soothing to me then, proof of how clean and organized my
environment was. But now it’s a black stench, tainted with the putridity
of this godforsaken place. You’d think after months of being in prison,
I would have been immune to the smell, but I guess some things just stuck with
you. Besides, every hospital — or infirmary — had a unique scent underneath
all the bleach and other chemical cleaners. This infirmary was no different.
I was escorted by a guard who probably ate doughnuts for every meal and kicked
puppies for fun, but hey, I’m not judging or anything. He shoved me into
a chair, cuffed me to the table, and disappeared, probably off to shake down
an old lady or something. I seriously doubted he was capable of anything more
strenuous.
“See ya around, Brutus.” I lifted my chin at the rotund man. He
frowned at me but I just grinned. I liked to pick one guard at a place and
harass him until he broke. I was a surgeon and, if I was honest, I
didn’t think I saw psychiatrists as “real” doctors.
I’m ashamed to admit it now for multiple reasons. Mostly because
I’ve been in places in the prison system where there is more true mental
illness than I ever thought could possibly be concentrated in a single
building, but also because I’ve learned a new appreciation for how a
good psychiatrist could get into someone’s head. It was a powerful
feeling. I had no desire to fuck with someone’s head — much — but
teasing them a little was too fun to resist. The guards anyway. Occasionally
I’d fuck with other staff members or the occasional prisoner if he was a
pain in my ass, but mostly it was the guards.
As I sat there, I caught a glimpse of a nurse. She looked like a tiny, curvy
angel in this sea of steel and misery. Honey-colored hair pulled up in a messy
bun, and those gray eyes that seem to see right through me. For some reason, I
don’t associate those eyes with a woman. I knew I’d seen those
eyes before, but for the life of me, I couldn’t place her.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Raven,” she said as she approached me, and
holy shit, I recognized that tinkling voice. Then her eyes widened and she
winced. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, obviously devastated
at her inadvertent mistake. We both knew I was no longer a doctor. While a
felony conviction didn’t always mean someone had to surrender their
medical license, doing so had been a condition of my plea agreement. One I
didn’t fight even though my brother tried to get me to. With anyone
else, or if I didn’t know this woman, I’d have thought it was
intentional, designed to either make me feel small by reminding me of how far
I’d fallen or to see if they could make me snap with mental torment. But
not Nadine Brentner.
“It’s all right, Ms. Brentner. I know it wasn’t
intentional.”
Her jaw drops. “You remember my name?” Real wonder and a touch of
hero worship tinted her expression. She looked more than a little starstruck
and for the first time I could ever remember, I wanted to puff my chest out in
pride. Because some girl I never knew very well was happily surprised I
remembered her fucking name. Maybe Knuckles, the fucker, was rubbing off on
me. I’d heard about him and his woman and how disgustingly mushy they
could be. Only this wasn’t my woman. Also, when I knew her, she was
still in high school, volunteering in the hospital’s Explorer program, a
“class” in which the students volunteered at the hospital in
different departments so they could see what the world of healthcare was like
and outside the classroom.
I couldn’t help but smile. Nadine had been a ray of sunshine from the
first day I saw her in my OR waiting room. We didn’t interact, though I
tried to acknowledge her when I saw her. She had been handing out snacks and
taking family to their loved ones as they came out of recovery. It seemed like
she had a natural ability to empathize with those around her. On more than one
occasion, I saw her help calm someone down when no one else could.
Administration had been angry with her for stepping in. She was underage and a
student, but she’d been there at the time and had already made a
connection with the woman. I didn’t see her after that and I’d
wondered on more than one occasion if she’d been moved to another
department because of that incident or if she was simply finished with her
class.
“Of course, I remember you.” I tried to drop my “Pain”
persona and adopt some kind of gruff, long forgotten version of “Dr.
Raven” she might remember. “You were one of the few Healthcare
Explorers to come through my area who I thought might make a career in
medicine someday.”
She seemed startled before she gave me a smile filled with wonder. Her eyes
widened and she looked down at the floor. Taking a breath, she met my gaze
again. This time, she looked more settled. Apparently, she hadn’t
thought I’d notice her. Truth was, it was impossible not to notice her.
Nadine Brentner, the teenager, had been beautiful, but like a porcelain doll
you were afraid to touch for fear of breaking her. I appreciated her outer
beauty then, but it was her inner beauty that caused me to remember her. I
don’t think there was ever a time I saw her without a smile.
“I hope I live up to your expectations then.” She smiled as she
pulled a computer in front of her and began typing. “Give me just a
moment,” she mumbled as she continued to peck on the keyboard.
“Stupid thing locked me out again.” She gave me a sheepish grin.
“I took too long and it thought I’d left.” She was muttering
under her breath now and it was almost too cute for words. Mainly because I
could remember her doing much the same thing a few times back when I’d
had a life and an identity. Only thing she’d improved upon was that now,
she seemed to need to stick the tip of her tongue out while she concentrated.
She sat across the small table from me. I was shackled at the ankles and
wrists and secured to a bar bolted in the middle of the steel table. This
might be medical, but I wasn’t sick or injured and the guards
didn’t know me. No one was taking any chances. New face, new place.
As she continued her login, I glanced around the room. The big guard who
brought me here was gone, but there were two other guards. One of them cleared
his throat and frowned in our direction.
Nadine glanced at him before she looked up at me again. This time, her smile
was still polite but not as welcoming. I noticed she seemed nervous now when
she hadn’t before. I made a mental note and waited until Nadine was deep
into her questioning about my medical history and such before I snuck a glance
at the guard. There were no names on their ID badges, but I’d find out
who he was and what beef he had with Nadine. And why the fuck she was scared
of him.
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
