WOUNDED SOULS MC
His Man
A Wounded Souls Novella
LEAH SHARELLE
Copyright © 2018 Leah Sharelle
His Man (A Wounded Souls MC Novella)
By Leah Sharelle
All Rights Reserved.
Two Red Pens Editing:
Colleen Snibson, Literary Editor
Rogena Mitchell-Jones, Literary Editor
Cover Image: Lindee Robinson Photography
Cover Design: Mylee Quigley
Models: Chad and Craig
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.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dedication
For all my readers who wanted a little bit more of Ford.
Xoxo
Prologue
FORD
I hated sand, really fucking hated it.
I woke up to it, walked around in it, and fucking ate the shit. Even my equipment had sand coming out of it. How the hell was a person supposed to stay sane when they had sand coming out of their fucking jocks?
The chopper stirred up even more sand as it started its lift-off, and the sand stung my skin as it blasted my face. I held my scarf to my eyes in a futile attempt to ward off any grains from getting in there while I stood and watched the medivac speed off safely with my wounded teammates inside it. Mannix, Steel, and Creed had all been injured, Steel being the worst. I didn’t think I would ever forget the horrific and pain-filled screams of my mate as Darth worked frantically to save Steel’s life after his leg was blown off. Even worse, the guttural roar that left my CO, Booth, as he clasped his brother’s mangled body tightly to his chest.
War was hell, pure and simple. The worst kind of hell.
With one last look at the Huey, now a speck in the clear blue sky, I picked up my weapon from the hated sand and slung it over my shoulder. It was just a fucking ornament now, all ammo long gone.
“Ford, here come the Humvees. Gather up all the weapons, and let’s get the fuck out of here,” Deck ordered wearily. My sergeant’s face had a shattered look I had never seen on him before. Deck was usually so upbeat, but today, we all saw things no man should ever see. Things I would see every time I closed my eyes for years to come.
“Yes, sir,” I answered, already picking up Steel’s sniper rifle and Mannix’s standard army-issue handgun. No fucking ammo. What a joke this mission ended up being. I loved my country, served it with soul-deep respect, but the people calling the shots from an air-conditioned office needed a slap in the face with a good dose of reality.
This should never have happened, a clusterfuck of epic proportions, one I wanted out of as quickly as possible. I had three months left on this deployment, and after I put in my time, I was out. This nightmare was going to be my last—I was done.
“Come on, dickhead, I want to get out of here,” a familiar and irritating voice called out to me.
I looked over my shoulder, right into the hazel eyes of another nightmare.
“Get fucked, Lucky. I don’t see you helping to pick up this shit,” I grumbled, ignoring his laughter. There was no real heat in what I was saying, just bone-deep tiredness. Bryce ‘Lucky’ Clarke was another reason I wanted out of this shithole but for a whole other clusterfuck of a reason. Typically, I wouldn’t have to deal with him on a walk back to the FOB. He was a helicopter pilot, who flew us the wounded in and out. Today, however, we were too many men down, so Booth made the call for Lucky to stay here with us, leaving the co-pilot to fly my team out on his own.
I quickly gathered the rest of the team’s weapons, then hurried to the waiting Humvee. Yep, I was for sure fucking done with it all.
Chapter 1
FORD
“Can youse see me, Fordy? Can youse see how high I’s is going?” Shiloh’s loud, happy voice yelled at me.
I shifted little Bastian in my arms and smiled at the happiness in Shiloh’s voice. Thank fuck she could do this now, play at her favourite park on her favourite swings without the worry of dangerous threats hanging over her.
“You bet I can, Squirt. You are the best at swinging,” I agreed with the beautiful girl, who stole my heart the minute she was placed in my arms as a newborn. Shiloh’s birth into this world went a long way to fixing the dark places I was dragged into—for my brothers, too. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for the Wounded Souls’ princess, absolutely nothing.
“Of course, I am, Poindexter. I’s the bestest,” Shiloh said matter-of-factly. The nickname she used brought a lump to my throat, knowing Darth had used that term for me more than once over the years. Shiloh’s parroting was usually funny as hell, but today, her saying that to me in her innocent way brought back the pain of losing one of our own. Darth’s death at the hands of Rogue had hit us all very hard. Due to his loyalty to Shiloh and Memphis, he sacrificed his life for them. Shiloh was the most important person in the big prick’s life, and he proved that in the most amazing way anyone could.
“You’ve got five more minutes, kiddo. Your baby brother is starting to get grumpy,” I warned her and received a miniature chin lift.
“Copy that. Daddy says when Bast gets grumpy, we should evacuate,” Shiloh said as she swung her little legs out in front of her and performed a nearly perfect dismount.
I laughed loudly. Fuck, this kid is a fucking joy, I thought to myself.
“We’s betta goes now. The only thing to stop his grumpy moods is Mummy’s boobies,” Shiloh said gravely.
As I took her outstretched hand with my free one, more laughter bubbled out. “You are one of a kind, Shiloh Johnston, you know that?”
“Sure do. Vinnie said they broke the mould whens I’s was borned.” The confidence and pride in her voice made my heart melt.
“Thank God for that, hey, Squirt?” I turned, and the sand that covered the swing area was now in the cuff of my military pants. Fuck, I hated sand and the shitty memories it conjured up.
“Amen to that, Fordy,” Shiloh said with a relieved sigh, and just like that, my happy place was restored.
Where would I be without the four, nearly five-year-old princess? I thought to myself as she nestled her small hand trustingly in mine. A hand that had taken lives… and felt heaven… just once.
***
The walk back to the compound consisted of Shiloh doing all the talking and me laughing. The kid had some really weird ideas about her baby brother’s future and some disturbing ones about her own. I wondered how Deck was going to take the news his baby girl planned on being the president of the Wounded Souls one day. Probably lock her up and throw away the key, I thought, chuckling to myself.
“What’s so funny about that?” Shiloh said with a mini growl.
>
Okay, so I didn’t chuckle to myself.
“Nothing, Squirt. You got yourself some big plans there, kiddo. Booth won’t give up his patch without a fight, you know?” I informed her as I shifted Bastian to my other arm. The kid was a brute, that was for sure. How the hell Teach carried him for nine months was a mystery.
“Darf said I can do anyfink I’s wants,” Shiloh said in a huffy voice.
I stopped walking at the mention of her beloved Darth, who was one of my closest friends. As members of the Souls, Darth and I had worked closely together, and with his role as the primary purchasing officer and security, we spent a lot of time together. Booth kept us busy with ordering new equipment every time he had a fit of rage and threw something expensive. Now that Rogue was gone, we hoped that was behind us. I just wished the big prick was still here to see all the new babies. He would have loved being an uncle to them all.
“Is that what he used to tell you, baby girl?” I asked absently. Bastian’s head fell to my shoulder, and I palmed the back of his small head, his downy hair soft against my hand. The poor little bloke was getting tired. You should feel my arm, little man. Damn, this kid was heavy. What the hell did his parents feed him?
“He’s told me that last night,”
I whipped my head around and looked down at Shiloh, who was twirling a length of her long, black hair around her finger. It was something Darth used to do when Shiloh was on his knee when they would watch Tour of Duty. I swallowed the lump in my throat, my eyes still riveted on the finger twisting her hair. Shiloh never did that, and I would know since she spent hours with me every day. Only Darth did that.
I held tighter onto Bastian and knelt, getting eye level with Shiloh.
“Squirt, what do you mean when you said last night? Did you mean you dreamt about Darth, and he spoke to you in the dream?” I asked carefully, hopefully.
“Nah, I’s was awake. He waits until Mummy and Daddy leaves the room, then he comes and reads me another story,” Shiloh said nonchalantly as if what she was saying wasn’t sending shivers up my spine.
I shook my head, careful not to wake the sleeping boy. “Shiloh, are you seeing Darth and talking to him, honey?” I asked quietly and hoped she would give me an eye roll and say, ‘Sucked in, Fordy.’ Of course, she didn’t, except for the eye roll.
“Darf promised me he woulds always be wif me. We watch Zeke every night.” She paused and narrowed her gaze at me. “You ain’t gonna tell that I’s watch telly when I ’posed to be sleeping, is ya, Fordy?”
I reached out and lifted Shiloh’s chin so she could concentrate on my next question.
“Shiloh, do you see Darth when he watches Zeke with you?” I held my breath and waited.
Shiloh smiled hugely at me. Her front tooth that she lost after an accident on her bike a few months back had now grown back. I inwardly smiled at the memory of Darth and Mannix blowing that bike up—the big man never tolerated anything that hurt his little princess.
“He sure does, tech man. He is all better now. His shirt has no blood on it anymore, and his ouch is all gone.” The nickname Shiloh used for me barely registered. The mention of Darth’s gunshot wound, or lack of it, had me reeling.
Jesus, fuck, I think we may have a major problem, I thought to myself. With a nod of my head, I moved my hand to Shiloh’s cheek.
“I’m glad, Squirt. How about we get back to the compound and get your baby brother to bed. Then maybe we can play some C.O.D,” I suggested. I kept my voice light, but I was worried about what Shiloh had told me. If she has visions of Darth, it could be a symptom of PTSD. After seeing what she saw that day when Darth was killed and the car accident she had been in, not to mention all the other crap she had endured because of Rogue’s sick game of revenge, it wouldn’t surprise me if Shiloh needed some help.
Getting back up, I made sure Bastian was still asleep. I reached down and took Shiloh’s hand in mine, and we started back for the Souls’ compound, glad to have something else to think about that wasn’t six foot four, muscled, and deeply in denial about who and what he was. What I was to him.
Chapter 2
LUCKY
I looked around the compound and smiled. For six months, I had been back and part of the Wounded Souls family again. Of course, these days, it was a bit different than it had been a few years ago. Back when I started prospecting, there were no wives, and Shiloh was the only baby. Not so now, I thought as I heard little Gabe squeal with delight as his father, Booth, held him up in the air while laughing, too. It was a sight to see my pres and former CO laughing without a care in the world other than his six-month-old son’s happiness.
Even Creed, the once broody road captain, had a shit-eating grin on his face. His wife was beside him with her ever-present dog sitting at her feet, or should I say on her feet. Four-month-old Zander was on his father’s lap, gabbing away to himself, saying things only he could understand. Creed smiling again? Fuck, that was great! The whole new vibe around the club was great, but then, in my peripheral vision, I saw something that had me rethinking that. Or, to be more exact, someone. Ignoring the churning in my gut, I tried not to watch the way Ford swaggered into the main room of the compound or the way he held onto Bastian and Shiloh Johnston as if they were the most precious cargo he had ever held. Of course, in mine and everyone else’s opinion, they were, but to see the man who haunted my every waking minute—fuck, even in my sleep—with the kids made my heart beat just a little bit faster.
Watching Ford from afar was a goddamn obsession since I got back from the desert and then the army hospital. Being shot was easy compared to lusting after a man I could never have again. I got a taste of Ford Pellant, and it left me craving more. Heaven was a word that came to mind. Then nothing but fucking hell since.
“Lucky, I need you to go over the payroll with Ford later. I want spreadsheets of all the businesses’ expenses and wages for the last financial year ready for the accountant by Monday morning,” Booth said to me, nearly making me jump out of my skin.
“Jesus Christ, Pres! Warn a man, would ya?” I exclaimed. My cheeks heated, embarrassed for getting sprung staring at the club’s computer expert yet again.
“You flew helicopters in the army, brother. You shouldn’t get surprised. But… if you are going to keep staring at Ford like you wanna dip him in whipped cream, you might want to do that when no one is watching you,” Booth retorted with a smile that was a mixture of mirth and disbelief. “Fuck, did I really just say that?” Booth mumbled, holding his head in his hands.
“Um… yeah. I don’t look like—” I scoffed, taken aback by the comment from my pres. How did this man know fucking everything?
“Yeah, you do mate. Look, it ain’t any of my business, but I’m going to say my piece anyway.” Booth sat next to me on the picnic bench, and from his tone, I could tell he didn’t want to get involved, so I knew what he had to say was important. My relationship, or whatever the hell Ford and I had, was not a topic of discussion as far as I was concerned. But if my pres had something to say, then I would listen.
I sat and waited for Booth to speak. His attention was on Stella, who had their son on her hip and was carefully making her way across the main room that was littered with toys and animals. He let out a relieved sigh when she made it to the other side and disappeared into the kitchen. Once again, I was struck with a mixture of happiness and envy for Booth. Happy because he was finally getting what he deserved after years of drowning in the guilt of his own making, and envy because he had what I wanted with Ford. Love, devotion, and soul-deep passion. I wanted it all, only it couldn’t be with him.
“What’s it like, Booth?” I blurted the question without thinking.
“What’s what like?”
“Being able to be in love with the person who makes you whole. The person you want, instead of the person you think you want,” I blurted out. Goddamn, I am turning into one of the flock! I chastised myself silently. Next thing, I was going to start joining in on the
caramel-slice–eating marathons and watching fucking Christian Grey movies.
I turned and looked at Booth, whose gaze was trained on the door his wife had just gone through. A handful of seconds passed before he pulled his gaze from where his life went and aimed those steel grey eyes at me. Booth was both all-seeing and all-knowing, and they were the qualities that kept us alive on missions. I followed Booth into battle in the desert and would follow him as a part of the Souls. My trust in him was undeniable, but his ability to see more than I wanted had me squirming under the scrutiny.
“There ain’t nothing like it, Bryce. It’s a heady feeling to openly love the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. Fucking phenomenal when that person loves you back with the same fierceness. You got yourself a problem, brother, when you aren’t honest with yourself. That’s one thing, but it’s a whole bigger issue when you aren’t honest with others.” Booth paused. His glare turned softer, and I saw genuine concern centred at me. “Ava needs to be loved by a man who really loves her for her, not for what she makes you look like. As for Ford, if you can’t be with him the way he wants, the way you both want, then let him go. It ain’t fair to flaunt her around the club in front of him, only to watch his every move with a look that gives him hope.”
Booth’s words hit me exactly where he planned, and guilt and shame overcame me—not shame because I was in love with a man, but shame that I was using Ava and our engagement so I didn’t have to admit I was gay, shame that I was hurting Ford. Getting engaged was a spur of the moment thing. After I got shot while stationed at the FOB, waiting out my time before I left the army for good and joined my brothers back home, Ford was the first person to call. Every day, he touched base with the hospital in Germany, checking up on me and giving the nurses messages to pass on to me, and then again when I was transferred back to Sydney. He made sure I knew my brothers were worried and thinking about me, that he was thinking about me. Then, when Darth and Steel said they were coming up to visit me while on club business, and bringing Ford with them, I panicked and announced I was engaged to Ava, my high school sweetheart. Ford chose not to join the run, and Deck came in his place instead. I knew it was because of me, and the lie I told. Well, it wasn’t a complete lie since I did ask Ava to marry me. We had been sweethearts of sorts back in high school—best friends was a more accurate description. Lots of hand holding, lying in each other’s arms, sweet talking, and chaste kisses. That sort of thing, nothing compelling or life altering. She was a different person back then, not the greedy, money-hungry, status-obsessed person she was now. Stars didn’t explode, and the ground didn’t rock under me when she touched me, not like it did that one amazing night back at the FOB when Ford rocked my world, and I handed my heart over to the man.
His Man : A Wounded Souls Novella (The Wounded Souls Book 6) Page 1