His Honey

by Leah Sharelle

  “Vinnie, I is hungry.” The loud whisper-yell came from my right side. I tried like hell to hide my smile, but I loved that Shiloh was the only one to call me Vinnie, and she had since she could talk. My name was the third word in her vocabulary. Unfortunately, her first word was ‘fuck’ with Dadda following a close second.

  “Go tell Stella, Squirt. I’m sure she has something yummy planned for us this morning.” God, that name. What I wouldn’t give to have that name come from my lips while she went down on her knees and took my cock deep in her throat, my hands buried deep in her soft, blonde hair, her pretty hazel eyes staring back up at me just as she took my come and swallowed every—

  “Vinnie, she ain’t here again,” Shiloh interrupted my wicked daydream of Stella on her— Wait! She wasn’t here? Again? What does Shiloh mean not here again? I sat up, careful not to dislodge the sheet from below my waist. Yeah, morning wood was not a good idea this morning. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and it didn’t take me long to wake up. Being in the sandbox as long as I was, I got used to waking up and getting ready in mere minutes. And it was something that had never left me. Or any of my brothers.

  “Okay, Squirt. You go wait for me in the kitchen. Let me get dressed, and Vinnie will see where Stella is,” I suggested, anxious to find out what was going on with the wayward Stella.

  “You betcha, big boss man,” Shiloh said in a singsong voice as she rushed out of my room with Bullet and Trigger right behind her. Ever the watchdogs. I chuckled at the three-year-old, then got up and walked into my en suite. I made quick work of showering and shaving. My shoulder-length hair and fringe, which was the same length as the rest of my hair, would be fine left damp. By the time the funeral began, it would look like it normally did—straight with a middle part and a slight wave to it. Nothing too girlie. I didn’t put it up often like Darth did. The man rocked a man bun, according to the ladies of the club. But one day, I’d overheard Stella tell Teach she liked my hair down. So, of course, that was how I wore it.

  Splashing some cologne on my neck and jaw area, I took one last look at myself. Yeah, I must have gotten enough sleep last night. The bags from the last few weeks had left my eyes. Drinking that quarter bottle of Patron had helped to send me off to sleep, and not waking with a hangover was a gift of mine. Made my brothers were pissed off, but who gave a fuck. Chuckling again, I quickly dressed in my usual attire of black utility pants, a white T-shirt, and cut with my feet encased in my worn, black combat boots. Looking down at them, I could see exactly where my brother Carson’s blood had splattered on them that day in the desert. Long worn off by now—to the naked eye—but I knew where it had been, what it had looked like, and how it had dripped down to the sole.

  Fuck. I remembered everything. It was why I kept them and wore them every day. I didn’t deserve to forget or to be forgiven. And today, I had to wear the blood of another dead brother.

  Sighing, I walked out of my room in search of the club’s missing cook.

  ***

  “Darth, will you please stop feeding the child chocolate for breakfast, and go sit down. Pancakes will be ready any minute now.” Charlotte’s sweet voice scolded the big prick with her imitation of Deck’s growly voice, as Shiloh liked to call it.

  “Come on, Charlotte. It’s good for her,” Darth replied, taking a piece of chocolate from the block on the table and feeding it to Squirt. Her little mouth opened like a baby bird, and then she closed her lips over the morsel and gobbled it as fast as she could.

  “Keep it up, brother, and I will make you come with us to Charlie’s next antenatal visit. Pregnant women everywhere. Some even looking for a baby daddy,” Deck threatened as he wrapped his fiancée in his arms. After kissing her soundly, he reached over and stole a piece of chocolate for himself, popped it into his mouth, and then gave his woman another kiss. Damn, they were always kissing.

  “Excuse me for breaking up this love fest, but where is Stella?” I asked, interrupting them. If I didn’t, Deck might have just started dry humping Charlotte right there in front of us.

  Looking around the disaster before me, I could tell Charlotte was not as efficient in the kitchen as Stella. I could swear every single bowl, pot, and utensil was out on the bench or sink. Flour was everywhere, covering everything, including Charlotte and Shiloh. No wonder the squirt had come to me this morning. Charlotte was fantastic in many areas, but her kitchen skills were limited. Stella, however, could do a sit-down three-course meal for every member of the club and not break a sweat. Her skills were amazing. So giving her a pay increase was well worth the money. But by the look on Charlotte’s face right then, my thoughts were changing direction from Stella’s cooking skills to Stella’s absence.

  Charlotte’s face suddenly went red as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and the chewing commenced. Yeah, you have yourself a tell, Miss Dancing Girl. There wasn’t much that escaped me. Being a lieutenant in the army, I’d learnt to read people easily. It had served me well then and still did to this day as the president of the Wounded Souls.

  “Oh, my, I think I need to be sick.” She feigned dry retching, pulled out of Deck’s arms, and took off for hers and Deck’s rooms. Okay, what the fuck was going on? I turned my gaze to Shiloh, who was busy eating the rest of the chocolate bar as well as her pancakes, which she had smothered in … oh, shit, was that Vegemite? Damn, the kid had a really weird streak.

  “Squirt? Was Stella here for tea last night?” I asked as I crouched down in front of her. Her head shook back and forth several times. I almost wanted to stop her just in case she dislodged her eyeballs or something

  “Nope. Mummy came home and made me noodles. I like noodles, Vinnie,” she said matter-of-factly. It was something I was very well aware of.

  I looked at both Deck and Darth. They shared a similar look to what I was sure was on my face, too. Something was going on under my nose, and the women of the club were in on it. Like yesterday’s trip to the strip club to find Charlotte, who was supposedly there to help Rainn with a dance routine. Yeah, I was calling bullshit on that one. Rainn wasn’t there at the time, but Mannix was certain she was there all day since she’d walked to work so she could leave with him on his bike. Then she had called in after we escorted Charlotte home and cancelled her dinner date with Mannix. So Rainn was doing something, too, but what? Helping Stella? Helping her lie to me? Hide from me?

  “Deck, we haven’t got time right now. Dundee’s family should be here any minute, but later, I want you to lock your woman down and find out what the fuck is going on. If Stella is hiding something from us, I want to know. Got it?” Fuck, I did not need this shit right now. I had so many balls in the air that I was getting dizzy.

  “Booth, mate, I am not going to ask Charlotte to break a confidence with her friend, but I will urge her to tell me if it is in Stella’s best interest. Fair enough?” Deck and I had gone toe to toe with each other many times in the twenty years since we’d met. Always over personal shit, never in battle, so I knew that giving Charlotte the respect to be a loyal friend meant a lot to him.

  Instead of pulling rank and calling club business on her, I gave him a curt chin lift. It was about as good as I was going to get without slamming into his suite of rooms and demanding that Charlotte tell me herself. It was something I wouldn’t do, and I knew my brother would have had something to say about it, especially with his fists.

  “Agreed, but I want some answers soon. And that’s it,” I said. Simple and to the point. My brothers knew me. I didn’t say shit for nothing. I wasn’t being a sticky-nose, and I wasn’t after gossip. Something was going on with my honey, and I would find out. But first, I had to bury my friend.

  6

  STELLA

  Rainn was a genius with make-up. There was no other way to put it. She had covered my face with enough make-up to hide my injuries without making me look like a clown. My nose was not too bad as far as the swelling went—thanks to a whole night with an icepack sitting on my face. My lip wa
s still a bit swollen, but Rainn used a lipstick effect that made it look deliberate. She covered the cut with foundation. I just had to remember not to lick my lips or cry, and I could pull this farce off.

  I felt guilty for not turning up to work last night and this morning. I had called Ford to make sure he put my absences down on my clock card. I couldn’t afford the loss in wages, but it would have felt like stealing, and I was no thief. Ford was fine with the last-minute notice for the time off, but I could tell his curiosity was piqued as to why. After all, I had never taken time off before. In fact, I did a lot of overtime. Sometimes, it was unpaid, just so I could stay in the warmth of the compound instead of sleeping in my car.

  “Ready, Stella?”

  Looking behind me, I saw Creed standing in the doorway of the common room’s bathroom, which anyone in the club could use. It used to be the old boys’ bathroom when the compound used to be a detention centre. Deck and his crew had changed and modernised it, so now it was more like a large powder room. Four sinks with a six-foot mirror across them, several toilet stalls, and a changing area. Taking a deep breath, I turned fully and tried to smile, but it didn’t come. This was going to be one of the hardest things I ever had to do.

  “No,” I replied honestly. “But Dundee’s mother and sisters asked me to do this for him. He gave his life for Charlotte, Shiloh, and me. I watched him die, Creed,” I whispered, fighting the tears. I couldn’t cry for more reasons than just my make-up. I couldn’t sing to the best of my ability with a tear-clogged voice, and Dundee deserved the best send off the club could give him—that I could give him.

  Creed opened his arms, and I didn’t hesitate walking straight into them. The comfort he offered was something I needed badly. I just wished it were Booth’s arms wrapped around me. Creed rubbed my back in smooth circles, one hand rubbing my neck and the other rubbing my lower back.

  “I know, blondie, I know,” he soothed. I smiled at his nickname for me. My hair was so blonde it was close to white. Most people, especially women, assumed it was out of a bottle, but it was natural. My mother had the exact same colour, and I would never colour it. Never ever.

  “Come on, sweetheart, it’s time.” Turning us around, he dropped his arms from my back and took my hand in his instead. “And Stella? You might be fooling some people with that make-up, but not me. Be prepared for my questions, blondie. I will leave it be for a little while longer, but not much.” His words made me stumble a bit. How could he possibly know? Rainn’s job was flawless. Seriously, was there nothing that could get past these men? Oh, shit. If Creed noticed, what about Booth?

  “He has so much on his mind, he won’t know. Rainn did well with what you are hiding.”

  “Are you a Jedi?” I asked only half joking.

  “Do or do not,” he joked in a funny Yoda-type voice.

  Chuckling just a bit, I followed Creed and let him lead me to the funeral. The compound was the perfect place for it. After Dundee’s body was cremated, as were his wishes, the brothers would scatter their half of his ashes out back on the grounds. The other half was going to his mother.

  7

  BOOTH

  Meeting with Dundee’s mum and sisters was hard, but it was my responsibility as his former CO and his president. I had always taken my role as a leader seriously, and today was no exception. After chatting for a while, we took our seats in the front row. Dundee’s family were on my right while Deck, Mannix, Steel, and Darth were to my left. Charlotte, Mia, and Rainn were sitting behind us. Shiloh was too young to understand any of this, so Deck’s brother Jason and their parents came an hour before to pick her up for the day.

  Creed had taken off to find Stella ten minutes earlier, but they should have been back by now. The service had already started. She had been speaking with Dundee’s mother the last few days, so I assumed she would want to meet her in person. I had hoped Stella would sit with us.

  I was only half listening to the pastor when, in my peripheral vision, I saw Creed approach from the side. He was leading Stella behind him, her hand clasped in his. What the fuck?

  Clenching my jaw, I tried to focus on what the minister was saying, but I kept letting my gaze stray to the beautiful blonde who haunted my every waking hour. She was so stunning. Her face was made up, and although it was a lot more than she normally wore, she looked so fucking pretty.

  She also looked nervous. Why? Because she was hiding from me? Or because she was holding hands with my road captain, who should fucking know better. That was my woman, and she was off limits. I may not have claimed her or told the club, but my brothers knew how I felt about her. Creed knew how I felt.

  Deck nudged my shoulder with his. Glaring at him, I caught his warning chin lift, which said, Be cool, brother. Like fuck I would.

  “And now, as requested by Kurt’s family, Stella Hogan will sing ‘Forever Young.’” The minister announced.

  She would? Since when? Shocked, I watched as Stella accepted a kiss on the cheek from Creed, making me grit my teeth even harder. Then she made her way to the front of the makeshift altar. The casket holding our fallen brother had her attention. She looked so sad. I knew she was so scared that day, and watching the prospect protecting them die would probably haunt her just as much as it would me.

  She was dressed tastefully, but the outfit wasn’t hers. I knew her style, and this was not it. The overly tight skirt and silky blouse screamed Rainn, and the ankle-length high-heeled boots were a definite give away that the redheaded dancer had let Stella raid her wardrobe. I wondered why. Her clothes were perfectly acceptable for a funeral. She shouldn’t have felt the need to hide behind showy clothes.

  Seb sat down beside her, his acoustic guitar at the ready. He nodded to Stella and started to play. Her eyes met mine, and something passed between us as Seb counted her in. Then Stella started to sing.

  Her voice was haunting as she sang the words, asking God to bless Dundee and may he stay forever young. Her voice was amazing. I felt tears gather in my eyes as I listened to the woman I was totally in love with sing the sweet, sad song to my mate. Then Seb joined in with her, his voice strong and sure, just as my woman’s voice was. I finally broke, and a lone tear fell down my cheek.

  8

  STELLA

  I didn’t know how I was singing this beautiful song without breaking down. The lyrics were so apt to the situation Despite how hard it was, I was glad Mrs Wilson chose this song for her son’s farewell.

  Sebastian joined in now and then, his guitar playing amazing, but I was surprised he had wanted to be a part of this. Seb was so quiet, and getting up to do this in front of the club would be hard for anyone. Hell, it was hard for me, but I was doing quite well until I saw something that completely shocked me. As I sang the last part of the song, I saw Booth crying. A tear escaped his glassy eyes, and I was done.

  My resolve not to cry flew out the window. My strong, handsome man was finally letting down his walls. I couldn’t begin to describe how his tear affected me. One tear. But it hit its mark. My heart. I barely made it through the last chorus, choking on the last three words. Seb strummed the last chord, and I sobbed. It was just too much.

  I needed to get away from the coffin. It was closed, a request from his mum, but knowing Dundee was lying lifeless in there was just too much reality for me right then. Even though Creed was waiting for me, I looked to the only person that I wanted, needed to be with at that very moment. I lifted my gaze, and with just one look from me, he was on his feet. His stride was full of purpose as he made his way to me, and in seconds, his strong arms were around me. And I let go with the grief of the day.

  I didn’t know what was happening between Booth and me. I didn’t know if anything would come of this, but we had a connection—of that, I was very sure.

  “I got you, Honey. You did such a beautiful job for Dundee. He would have been so proud. I’m proud of you, too,” he whispered in my ear. This man could be so hard and cold. Then he would melt me with his kind heart whe
n no one else could hear his sweet words or when he thought no one was watching. I would have liked it much more if he would sing it from the rooftops or had his feelings for me tattooed across his forehead to let people know he liked me. Was it too much to hope that he could maybe love me? He held me tightly against his chest, our hearts beating against one another as he gently made small circles on my back with his hands. He buried his face in my neck and pressed soft kisses to my skin. In moments like these, as he soothed and comforted me, making me tingle, he gave me a brief moment in my screwed-up life to be liked just for me.

  I held onto him and this moment for dear life.

  “Come on, Honey. Let’s sit down,” he said quietly as he led me over to where he had been sitting. Mrs Wilson got up as I approached and wrapped me in her embrace. She was a small woman and older than I’d thought she would be. I deduced that Dundee was a late-in-life baby. His two sisters looked to be at least ten years older than he was.

  “Thank you, Stella. You have a beautiful voice. Kurt would have been so happy to hear you sing.”

  My throat clogged with so much emotion that I could only nod in response.

  Creed had found his seat when Booth came for me after the song. As Booth guided me to the seat beside him, I noticed he had the guys move down a seat each. Darth was now on the other side of the aisle. No! This wasn’t right. The team needed to stay together.

  “Booth, let Darth come back, please. You guys belong together right now. Please.” I didn’t give him the chance to argue with me. Instead, I simply got up and, as quietly as possible, shuffled my way past each of the men of the Wounded Souls so Darth could take his rightful place. He gave me a chin lift, his stoic face hiding a depth of emotion, the tick in his tightly clenched jaw the only sign he was struggling as much as the rest of us.

  The rest of the service went off with poise and gentle, respectful laughter. Each of the brothers got up to share a memory or funny story about Kurt, but it was Creed’s story that had the women especially crying softly.