Marty Deeks Novels & Stories

’ Riley asks her, the psychologist trying to get an understanding of the carnage that had followed that one day. ‘Not at first’ Dee answers shaking her head. ‘Not until I opened my eyes and looked around the room, I saw Mum standing at the end of the bed than I worked it out’ she huffs breathing out heavily after she inhales a huge drag of her cigarette. ‘Reckon we could take these off? I am not going anywhere’ Dee asks nodding towards her cuffed wrists. ‘No, not until you tell us what happened’ Detective Stewart states, crossing his arms.

Master Sam invited us to have a seat and offered us drinks. "I can make us all margaritas if you wish, or I've got wine or just about any hard liquor you'd care to name." "Margaritas sound good," Master said. "Thank you." While Sam mixed frozen margaritas, Master told us Marcia was a deputy sheriff. I looked at her with new eyes, surprised a law enforcement officer was serving as a submissive. "That doesn't seem to be a profession that lended itself to submission, Marcia. I'm shocked you could be a submissive," I said.

Feeling my annoyance prick, I open my mouth to argue, but I feel that damned blush beginning to burn on the tips of my ears and my cheeks. Fuck. I was becoming a damn joke to Elise, despite my best efforts to get her to take me seriously. “Sorry to break it to you.” Marty continues. “I can’t go against Rosco’s wishes. If I were to leave the two of you here alone, he would lay into me, and I don’t mean verbally.” “Are you saying you’re afraid of him?” I challenge. “And here I thought you were more than capable of handling yourself.” From what I knew about Marty, he was a mercenary before joining Rosco. He was also well known in the underworld for his brutal killings.

After half an hour, I finally arrived at the mall, ready for some shopping. Stepping out of the car, I gazed at the magnificent entrance. Perhaps, once Sierra became Luna, I would bring her here and let her choose whatever her heart desired. Just as I was about to enter the mall, I froze upon hearing a familiar voice—a voice I had hoped never to hear again. "Hey, Dean, old friend, it's been a while." I turned around and came face to face with Drake. He hadn't changed a bit. His dark blue eyes and gray hair intrigued me, as I wondered about his fondness for that color.

I hadn’t realized how much people who weren’t financially stable were treated badly until I joined the club. Derek was nowhere near as nice as the receptionist. He was judging me off the clothes I was wearing. They weren’t designer and they were a little bit faded. I still had some designer clothes from my old life but they barely fit me anymore. I had grown too small and thin for them. Putting food on the table was a problem in itself. It wasn’t common for me to miss meals. “Where did Markos find this filthy girl?” He grumbled under his breath, not caring that I heard every word.

Jackie sneered. “I just want to get my hands on those lovely shoulders. You know, as pissed as I am about you setting me up in Phoenix, I still want to fuck your brains out. Hell, let’s have one of Garvey’s famous orgy sessions, right here. I’m getting tired of waiting for Kirby.” “Go to hell,” Jackie spewed. “It’s the mustache, isn’t it? You don’t like it,” Marty said nonchalantly. Matt had heard enough. He stood up and rounded the doorway and cocked his gun. He pointed it right at Marty. “I have to admit, you look damn good, Marty, but I don’t think the lady is interested.”

He bore left through the valley of the slots and passed beneath Orion and Gemini on his way to Ursus Major, the Great Bear, where the high-stakes blackjack room beckoned. There were a half-dozen $5,000 tables to choose from, and he picked the one where Marty, one of his favorite deal- ers, was working. Marty was a New Jersey transplant, his wavy brown hair pulled back into a neat little ponytail. Marty's eyes lit up when he saw him approaching. "Hey, Mt.

She read the plaque that revealed it was a kukri, gifted from the Nepalese to a Sgt Maddox. Sgt Maddox? She frowned at the name. It was a common name, right? She glanced over at the picture on the wall, a group of brawny uniformed men stared back at her, their faces beaming with pride. She traced her finger over the names at the bottom of the picture, finding the same name. Only this time, it was slightly different, the label read Sgt Zachary Maddox. She followed the position of names, matching it up to Archer’s face. Cara ran to the next picture she found down the hallway, a single photo of him stood to attention in his uniform, the badge on his chest read ‘Maddox’.

I said, my voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, as if my name meant something to him. “I’m Elijah.” The name sent a ripple of recognition through me, but I couldn’t place it. It felt familiar, like something I should know, but in my haze of alcohol and pain, I couldn’t grasp it. “You’re a Beta’s mate, aren’t you?” His question was soft, but it cut through me like a knife. I stiffened, my grip tightening around the glass. “How do you know that?”

The uncertainty made me sad once more. I turned away from the window and glanced around the small one-bedroom cabin. It wasn’t built for two people; it barely had enough space for one. That raised a question—where did he sleep? The thought unsettled me. Then, as if summoned by my curiosity, I saw him through the window. Keiran Ackerman, the Gamma of the Blood Moon Pack, he was walking toward the cabin with a dead deer slung over his broad shoulders. His movements were effortless, his body moving with a lethal grace that only trained killers possessed.