RAFE
BOOK FOUR
THE WOUNDED SONS SERIES
BY
LEAH SHARELLE
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
Copyright © 2020 Leah Sharelle
RAFE: The wounded sons – Book Four
By Leah Sharelle
All Rights Reserved.
Editing and Proofreading: R Corcoran
Photography: Chic Professional Photography
Cover Models: Dustyn Rogers
Cover Design: Formatting & Design by Jaye
Interior Design: Formatting & Design by Jaye
This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the properties of the author, and your support and respect are appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
This author writes using Australian English and may include Australian diction
FROM LEAH
And I am back in the world of Team FIVE and the Wounded Sons after spending time with three Hott Aussie cowboys. I have to admit I am excited to be back with Gabriel and his team. This is Rafferty ‘Rafe’ Walsh’s story, and oh my word, what a tale he has to tell. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t add some twists, a few heart-thumping moments and a lot of smouldering sexy stuff. So sit back and let’s head back to the Sons, oh and of course, a glimpse of my beloved Souls too.
Important note: This story briefly mentions the sadness of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. I wholeheartedly hope that I treated this part of the storyline with the respect and carefulness that this heartbreaking syndrome deserves.
DEDICATION
Thank you Tamara Jane, my last born and my rock. You are a beautiful young woman Marty Jane, and I love you to the stars and back.
To Handsome, as I say every time, thank you my dear wonderful friend for being you. XOXO
PROLOGUE
RAFE
“Angie baby, are you ready to go?” I yelled out as I entered the house from the back door, my heavy boots echoing on the hardwood floor as I made my way through the kitchen to go in search of my wife.
Wife. I still couldn’t get my head around that I had a wife or that I was someone’s husband. Three weeks and four days ago, Angie put the thick, gold ring on my finger and promised to love me forever. Me doing the same as I slipped the thick diamond band next to her modest engagement ring.
My parents and hers said we were just kids and had no business getting married at twenty-two. I understood their concerns, Angie was two years younger than me, but it wasn’t as if we were rushing into married life without knowing each other. I met Angie when she had been just sixteen, we clicked right away and only days later, we became a couple. Since that day we have been inseparable … until today.
“Honey, we gotta get moving,” I called out a little louder this time, a little more frustrated that I had to go chasing her when she knew I was on a timeframe.
Moving through the house we rented, I looked in almost every room but came up short.
No Angie.
I knew what she was doing, but going over the argument that seemed to play on a record was not something I wanted to get into today. I’d always, always told Angie the truth. She knew what I wanted to do with my life, had accepted it, and married me knowing it. Why she was being difficult now kind of pissed me off. I was nervous enough as it was without Angie throwing one of her tantrums.
Deep down, I knew I indulged my wife in many ways. She came from money, I did not. She never had a part-time job in her life, I had several. She was an only child, with rich parents to lean on; my parents were blue-collar workers and had been all their lives. Where they installed morals and work ethics in their kids, Angie’s parents tossed money at their only child and left her care to her nanny. When we got engaged, I told Angie I wanted to support her with the money I earned, not have her parents set up a bank account for us or gift us a house of their choosing paid for by them. I learnt early into our relationship, the Laylaw’s were generous, but every handout came with conditions. They didn’t always become apparent right away, but trust me, they were there.
Angie accepted it, I did not. Therefore I wanted to make it on our own, and renting a three-bedroom cottage was part of it. The other part of it was my big career move, doing this was going to be good for us and set me up for a lifelong career and paycheque. Once Angie had some time to come to terms with it, she was going to be fine.
Walking down the hall after checking the bathroom and spare rooms, I headed for our bedroom, coming to a halt when I looked inside and saw my wife tucked in bed with her phone in her hand, her fingers flying across the screen, and the TV on.
“Angie, what the hell?”
“Don’t swear at me, Rafferty, it is uncouth.” My full name sounding like a curse word when she resorted to her rich, snotty voice.
Fuck me, I don’t have time for this.
“We have to go, Ang, it is a long drive there.”
“Yes, and a long drive home, which you expect me to do on my own,” she huffed dramatically, not looking at me. I fucking hated it when she talked to me but used her phone at the same time. Texting or surfing social media it didn’t matter; it was rude, and she knew where I sat with that shit.
“Angela, get out of bed and let’s move it. I can not be late to the base.”
Angie sniffed then finally tossed her phone onto her blanket-covered lap, her green eyes firing bullets at me.
“I’m not going, Rafe, I don’t want you to join the army, and Daddy said if I don’t want it, then that should be enough for you to stay.” Angie used the voice I normally found endearing, childish yes, but Angie was an only child and her parents doted on her twenty-four hours a day. Most of the time, I let her snide moods slip by to the keeper, but not today.
“You aren’t coming to see me off to basic training? For fuck’s sake, Angie, I will be gone for eleven weeks.”
“Exactly, Rafe, you are leaving me after only three weeks of marriage,” Angie yelled at me, jumping out of bed, flinging her hands at me.
“Angie, we talked about this for over a year. You knew this was what I wanted to do with my life, you agreed that it was the best choice for us financially.”
“I agreed because Daddy said it was most likely just a phase. He said you would change your mind, but you didn’t, Rafe. Now I have to stay here in this dump all by myself while you go play at being a soldier.” Angie paced angrily over to the window and yanked back the sheer curtain. “Can you honestly see me living here, Rafe? Do you even know me at all?”
Standing there in our room, I watched my new bride of three weeks turn into a crazy person. A crazy rude person.
“Um, right now? No, I
don’t,” I admitted quietly, honestly.
“Well, isn’t that just peachy, Jesus Christ, Rafe? You were offered a good job with Dad’s golfing buddy. Why you think selling insurance is not a good stepping stone to earning a good living is beyond me.” The minute she finished her rant, Angie slapped her hand over her mouth and stared wide-eyed at me. She knew about the job offer? How? When I didn’t even tell her.
“How did you know about that offer? I don’t recall telling you about it,” I asked, taking three steps towards her.
“Oh please, Daddy told me. He said that you turned Malcolm down without even consulting me, Rafe. Me! Your wife!”
“Angela, it has always been a career in the army that I wanted. You know that we got married with you fully aware that I was going to join up, and do basic training before going straight into selection training.”
“And then what, Rafe? I follow you all over the country and live in apartment buildings and hang out with military wives. Shooting people for a living is not something I want people to know about you.”
“But selling insurance is okay?”
“For now, yes. Daddy has a lot of pull, all you have to do is toe the line for a year; then, he will make sure you climb the corporate ladder. And with that will come the better house, cars and credit cards.” Angie sauntered towards me, the crazy person mask gone replaced with that of a sexy temptress. Sliding her hands up my chest, she rested them on my pecs, her lip pulled between her teeth.
“Don’t you want the best for me baby, want me to have all that I deserve?” Angie pouted giving me doe eyes that up until ten minutes ago I found alluring.
“Yes, Angie, that is why I joined the army, to give us a good life. One that isn’t dictated by your father or his money.” Shaking my head, I took two deep breaths and wrapped my arms around my wife. Fighting with her never ended well, I always gave in and let her win. I loved Angie, I did. Yes, she was spoilt, but she was also fun and outgoing. For a guy that lived his whole life on the wrong side of town, having a rich, beautiful girl want to go out with you … well, it was a real ego boost.
“I want the money Rafe, not a husband who is barely here.” And there it was.
Money. Always money.
“Then I don’t know what to tell you, Angie, because I am going. I will leave the decision of what you want to do in your hands.” Gently untangling her hands from my shirt, I firmly put them down by her sides.
“I love you, Angie, I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t. But you agreed with me, or was that just all pretend? I don’t want a divorce, but I am not staying here to work in insurance. I want to be proud of the mark I make in this world, I want you to be proud of me, and serving my country will do that.” Leaning down, I kissed her soft lips, lingering to inhale her sweet scent. Putting it to memory just in case.
“It is up to you, Angie, think about what you want. If you want me, then let me know in eleven weeks.”
With one last chaste kiss, I turned and walked out of our bedroom, down the hall and out the front door to my car. The sobs of my wife ringing in my ears the whole way.
FOUR YEARS LATER
“Private Walsh, mail for you.”
I took the thick yellow envelope and stared at it with an expressionless face. I knew what it was, the multitude of phone calls with Angie the last few months coming to a conclusion with the appearance of the envelope.
“Thanks, mate,” I replied, breaking tradition and not using the mail clerk’s rank.
“No worries, Rafe, I see from the address on the top this isn’t the news from home I like to deliver.”
“Shit happens, mate. It has been a long time coming; being married and spending more time in foreign countries does not make a successful marriage.” Truer words had never left my lips, and in the last few years, I had done a lot of talking. Going home to a wife who hated my job, fighting more than we made love, then leaving again all pissed off and angry at each other meant this envelope was actually more welcome than disappointing, to me at least.
Angie didn’t divorce me four years ago when I left for basic training, but she was now. To be honest, we should have done it after I finished my commando training and got accepted into Team FIVE. Our fights really started to escalate to full out shouting matches, mainly about her jealousy of my teammates and the close bond I shared with them. She hated the secrecy about my job and that I lived in Queenscliff off base with them. She complained that being stuck in our small house in Bendigo all on her own was unfair, and if I was allowed to live off base, she couldn’t understand why I couldn’t live off base in Bendigo with her.
Angie wasn’t one for understanding logic, all she understood was what Angie wanted. Our arguments consisted of my living arrangements, my team and the fact that I spent a lot of time in Ballarat at what she called a gang hide-out. The Wounded Souls compound was not even close to being classified as a gang hide-out, but getting her to understand that was near impossible. It was getting so bad going home to her, I even lied to her about my leave and stayed in Ballarat, not letting her know I was even back in the country. I guess I was scared to be the one to end our relationship. Now, it was done.
Pulling the tab off the back of the manilla envelope, I yanked out the contents and started to scan the legal jargon. There wasn’t anything I would fight her for, we didn’t own the house we lived in. The only real financial request she was making was for me to pay out the lease so she could move out immediately. Fair call, Angie hated that house and I couldn’t begrudge her to leave it all behind her.
Other than wanting the lease paid out, she wanted me to pay her legal fees, which was basically it. Our years together didn’t garner assets or property, my Jeep was nine years old and I stored it at the base in Queenscliff or at Ballarat, depending on where we shipped out. We had no kids or bank accounts to divvy up, nothing to fight over.
Leaning over my bed, I reached inside my duffel bag for a biro and signed my name beside the coloured tab, dated it, then tucked it into the included addressed envelope.
Getting up off my bunk, I walked woodenly to the area where we put out letters to home for the mail staff to find. Looking at the non-descript parcel in my hand, I heaved a tired sigh.
Divorced at twenty-six.
I didn’t see that coming.
CHAPTER ONE
RAFE
The Wounded Souls compound was chock-a-block full of family and friends. Drinks were flowing, food littered tables everywhere, and people were laughing and chatting, making it impossible to hear the inner voice in my head berating me for being here instead of where I should be.
“Rafe, you want to stay at the compound tonight?” Gabriel Booth, my commanding officer, asked, walking up to me with a beer in each hand.
My normal refusal rose immediately, but a flash of light pink a hundred metres away caught my attention.
Pink, I like it.
Looking at my captain, I nodded my head. “Why not Tank? I can’t be stuffed driving tonight, and staying the night here won’t change anything.”
“You know Rafe, you don’t —”
Holding up my hand, I stopped Gabe from saying anything more.
“Don’t mate, please. Logically I know that, but I have a responsibility, Tank. I know you guys don’t get it, but I do, and while I can’t explain it, it is what it is,” I insisted, hating to have this conversation with one of my best mates. My team supported the decision I’d made three years ago without so much of a bad word, but recently they had gotten a little more vocal, a little more … forceful that it was time to pack it in and get on with my life.
If only I could. Seeing Peyton head in the direction of the back garden, I stood up from the picnic table.
“I’m staying tonight, Tank, good enough?” I asked, hoping that he would accept my decision and give the topic a rest.
“Righto Rafe, I accept that.”
Picking up my beer from the table, I nodded at him.
“Gonna go see how she
is doing, her last letter to me didn’t give the impression she was in a good place,” I said with a nod in Peyton’s direction.
“Yeah, Dad told me the club went out to her place a few weeks ago and installed more locks. Ford and Lucky upgraded her security camera system,” Gabe told me, his face worried.
“She isn’t doing any better, is she, Rafe?”
“She is and isn’t. With Justin still on the loose, I can’t blame her for being wary. I can’t believe he disappeared virtually without a trace. The club and Jason have a big reach, and still, Justin is like a ghost.” My back teeth ground against each other just thinking about that prick Justin. His attempt to kill Peyton and Addy might have failed, but he succeeded in turning Peyton into a shell of the woman she used to be. She is scared of being away from her house and scared to be there. My heart fucking aches for the sweet woman that had managed to become somewhat of an obsession to me. I had no fucking right, but my feelings for the vet nurse grew more and more every day.
“Go find her mate, my guess she has gone down to the garden where it is quiet.”
“And where she can see anyone coming,” I added grimly, hating that Peyton had learned such techniques such as staying where she could see someone coming at her, never sitting with her back to an entry and worst of all, learning to use a gun.
It didn’t escape me the irony; I hated that I was teaching Peyton to shoot, yet I was a sniper in the army. My job was all about guns, but I would give anything for that to be the opposite for Peyton.
“Fuck if only—” I stopped myself from voicing the rest because it didn’t matter how much I wanted things to be different. Unfortunately, Gabe heard me, and being the man he was, he wasn’t going to let an opportunity pass by him.
Rafe (The Wounded Sons Book 4) Page 1