Cole: The Wounded Sons

by Leah Sharelle

  “I didn’t say that, so watch the tone. I knew about Oaklee when your mum hired her, and your mum is the most important person in my life, along with you kids. I wasn’t risking anyone being around my wife without knowing as much about them as possible.”

  “Digging into her background from the small amount of intel I had, Ford discovered her hospital records. They didn’t paint a pretty picture, Cole. What I read told me a story of a young girl, spending her entire life struggling to feel accepted by her own family.”

  I was hearing him, but I wasn’t fucking understanding him. Oaklee already told me all about her younger days. Going back and forth to her grandparents, her many stays in hospital. I knew all this, so why was he wasting valuable time that could be spent finding Oaklee.

  “Are you picking up what I am saying, Cole?”

  It took no less than a few seconds to comprehend my father’s message, and when it did, it hit me with an anger I never thought could ever be directed at the man I admired and respected the most. I wished that the private had managed to get my father on Skype, just so I could see the truth on his face when he accused me of not being good enough for Oaklee, that being with me would just be like her fucked up parents. That my darkness would touch her, fuck her up, and send her spiralling again.

  For the first time in my life, for the very first time, my father was not my hero.

  And fuck did that hurt, but not as much as him thinking the absolute worst of me. The very notion that I would ever hurt Oaklee … fuck the thought made me fucking sick.

  I loved Oaklee.

  I was going to marry Oaklee.

  Have babies with Oaklee … if I could only find her!

  My knuckles turned white around the phone receiver, my blood thumped through my veins at the speed of a freight train, my ears roaring with the sound.

  “Find my girl,” I growled darkly.

  “Cole—” Dad began, but I was done with the conversation and the accusations.

  “Next time you have a fucked up thought about me, remember who I came from, old man. Mum is your Angel; well, Oaklee is my light. While she is in my life, nothing dark will ever touch her.”

  Hanging up on my dad without saying goodbye, another thing I have never done, I left the coms room.

  My heart heavy with worry and hurt.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  OAKLEE

  I walked into the kitchen with the intention of getting a bottle of water and a piece of fruit. Thayer was due to pick me up in fifteen minutes to ‘take me out and help you get over the soldier,’ her words not mine. And while the last thing I wanted to do was get over Cole because we weren’t really broken up yet, at least officially, I did want to get out of this house.

  Dirty dishes littered every surface, even though I had cleaned up just yesterday. Empty beer bottles, crushed vodka cans and pizza boxes full of crusts were stacked up on top of the stove.

  Delightful.

  Seeing my mother sitting at the kitchen table, her head dropped onto her folded arms, I rolled my eyes and continued to the fridge. Grabbing a bottle of water I’d hidden in the vegetable crisper under a cover of rotting lettuce leaves, I popped the top and took a long gulp.

  “Where the hell did you hide that?” Mum hissed, turning her head to glare at the water bottle at my lips.

  “Crisper,” I replied, wiping my mouth, “no way you or Pete would look there.” Giving her a smirk, I tossed back the rest of the water, taking three gulps to do it.

  Mum muttered a string of curses before face-planting back down on the table again.

  “Why are you here, Oaklee? You have your own home, you know.”

  “I am aware of that, Carla, but this is technically my house, too, if you recall.”

  “I pay you rent for this place, daughter of mine. So technically, I can say who can and can’t stay here.”

  “Well, considering you are four months behind on your rent, that gives me the right.” Crushing the bottle, I threw it in the sink of dirty dishes, then turned to look at my mother.

  Really look at her.

  At thirty-nine years old, she looked closer to fifty. Her long black unbrushed hair looked like it had a bucket of grease through it. Her nails were chipped and broken and between her pointer and middle fingers were disgusting yellow stains from smoking, and that was what I observed without seeing her face.

  Basically, she was a hot mess.

  Buying a house as an investment, I poured all my savings and most of my trust fund from my dad’s grandparents into it. Both his and mine loved him, but all four of them knew giving him a wad of cash would be a bad idea. So, I got it and decided to purchase a house with the idea that bringing in renters would pay off the mortgage faster than I could. My grandparents had already surprised me with my little bungalow, and I didn’t like the idea of moving away from them. How I got talked into renting to Pete and Carla was still a mind-dumbing blur, but I did and pretty well regretted it every day since. The only light in this black hole was the insurance on my mortgage and the real estate agent I hired to oversee the day to day care of the property.

  “We aren’t behind, just don’t pay the full amount each week. The tenant board chick said, as long as we are making an effort, then we can’t be evicted.” Mum’s triumphant, muffled response making me grimace because she was right.

  “Yeah, you know all the loopholes, don’t you, Carla? God forbid you would actually get a job and become an active member of society.” My sarcastic reply getting my mum’s attention enough for her to bolt up in the kitchen chair. Now, I could see just what her lifestyle was doing to her. The parties, drinking and drug abuse, all of it was slowly and surely killing her.

  Casting her green eyes on me, the same green as mine, Mum looked me up and down, a nasty twist gracing her chapped lips.

  “You’re too fat, maybe you should stop eating again.”

  I didn’t need to look down at myself to see that I had lost weight in the last three and a half weeks. Twenty-four days since I’d left the compound and my job, add another fourteen on top of that since I last saw Cole.

  Since I last kissed him, made love to him, and looked into his beautiful, onyx eyes and heard the words ‘I love you’.

  I miss you, Cole, and I love you. I left for you, so you don’t have to disappoint your dad.

  That had replaced my mantra the last three weeks. I’d repeated those words over and over in my head so many times during the day my heart practically beat to it.

  My health had suffered slightly since the confrontation; yeah, I’d lost weight, but I knew when to ask for help this time. I went to my therapist, talked over what was going on in my life to make me drop six kilos. To some, that was not a lot, to my small frame, though, it was huge. Sunken cheeks, collar bones protruding dangerously, and no appetite whatsoever, I sought help before I reached the point of no return. Now, I had clawed back one whole kilo and was back on a healthier eating plan. No hospitalisation this time.

  Although, choosing to stay here didn’t make me a good decision-maker.

  Neither did leaving Cole without a word—my subconscious accused, rather unhelpfully.

  Leaving the Club and my job after that day in the park with Memphis, I ran where no one would be able to find me. Memphis knew about my parents but not that my mum had a different last name. Pete was always in trouble with the law, so everything was in my mother’s name, the house, his bank accounts. Like his government support cheques, anything that was in his name was addressed to my grandparent’s house. The man was street smart if nothing else.

  Finding me would be challenging, but I had no illusions it was impossible, not for the Club. I even stayed away from Thayer, only talking to her on the phone, so she wouldn’t have to lie if asked of my whereabouts. Thayer was a shit liar and she accepted that. What she didn’t like was that I ran, having a lot to say on that matter.

  “Are you freaking insane, Oaklee! You quit your job!” They weren’t questions, shrilled at the to
p of her lungs, rather than disbelieving statements.

  “It’s for the best,” I tried to soothe her, but it was too late; my friend was off and running. Her tirade aimed firmly at me.

  “The best for whom, Oaklee? You? Cole?” Thayer’s voice rising an octave higher.

  “No, for him, I’m … I’m taking off for a while, Thay, if I leave now, Cole won’t have to decide between seeing me and being loyal to Creed.” Bracing myself, I waited for her to say something and waited and waited.

  Did the call drop out? Taking my phone from my ear, I looked to see that her contact details were still on the screen.

  Nope, still there.

  “Thay, you still there?”

  “Oh, I’m still here. I just don’t know if I want to hit you for being a dickhead, or kick Creed in the balls for being a cocksucker.”

  Stifling a giggle at my friend’s unique and creative descriptions, I tried again to calm her.

  “Thay, I know what I am doing. If I stay low for a while, Cole will forget all about me and eventually get on with his life. I am going to stay with my parents for a while, and no, before you ask, I will not give you the address.”

  “You what? He will forget … eventually! Well, cut my leg off and call me stumpy, Oaklee! Looks like I am hitting you the next time I see you!”

  As I said, Thayer had a lot to say about my decisions of late.

  Wrinkling my nose at the rancid smell coming off my mother, I walked over to the pantry. A door was missing thanks to a drunken idiot thinking he could hide in it to get away from his imaginary attacker. I hunted for the banana and orange I’d stuffed inside the box of stale cornflakes.

  Wanting to get out of the stinking smell of stale cigarettes, spilt beer and vomit, I decided that walking to the corner to meet Thayer was best also to save my hungover mother from a tongue lashing from my tiny blonde but fierce tempered friend.

  “Why don’t you have a shower and brush your teeth, Carla. At least pretend to join the human race, even if you can’t act like one.” Ignoring her one-fingered salute aimed at me, I headed for the back door, making a note to call the agents and ask them for a time to come and inspect the property. I didn’t want my parents kicked out on the streets, but I was done with them taking advantage of me and being their punching bag. I didn’t ask to be born, and it was about time they turned their blame laying around on themselves. Thirty-nine and forty being too old to be living off their only child.

  Feeling a little better, I started down the over-grown garden path, the weeds reminding me of that day when Cole came and helped me at my house.

  The day I fell completely in love with him.

  “Thayer!” I shouted, jumping out of her car and slamming the door with a bone-shuddering slam. “What the hell are we doing here?”

  “When Thayer called and begged me to go out with her, to drown my sorrows in copious amounts of Vodka and Tequila, which was not happening FYI, I didn’t think she would be so bold as to bring me to a place the Wounded Souls owned.

  Though, why I was surprised was a surprise itself. Thayer wasn’t exactly known for well-thought-out plans.

  “It’s Girls’ Night! Male strippers! Duh!” Thayer squealed, jumping up and down, drool practically dripping from the corner of her mouth.

  “Jesus Lord above, Thay, just hire a male escort already,” I moaned, reluctantly following her across the packed car park.

  “You know that the Club owns this place, right?”

  “I do, and that can’t be helped. Girls’ Night only happens here at Body and Souls, so suck it up, buttercup, because I have a pocketful of five-dollar notes, and it’s your turn to shout the drinks.”

  “How is it my turn?” I asked stupidly. Of all the things Thayer just said, I chose to focus on the one that I didn’t care about all that much.

  Since quitting my job and getting no rent income from the real estate, I had to sell my car to beef up my savings account. That extra money eased some of the worries of being unemployed, plus I still had the use of my grandpa’s car until they got back from their cruise.

  “Since you disappeared and gave up on Cole’s and your relationship like a coward. Now, hurry up, I don’t want to miss shoving money in the first dancer’s crotch and hopefully copping a feel,” Thayer yelled over her shoulder. She was at least twenty metres in front of me, and not giving a shit that people were around us, gawking with avid interest at the small petite blonde shouting at the top of her lungs that I was a coward, or maybe it was that she wanted to grab a man’s tackle. Either way, she was going to pay for that and pay big.

  Gratefully, the bouncer at the front door wasn’t wearing a Wounded Souls cut or familiar to me, so it made paying the entry fee and getting a wristband free from being recognised. Thayer was chomping at the bit as we waited in line to be let in, her excited babble a strangely comforting distraction from my relationship status.

  Was I still his girlfriend? Probably not. I had ghosted him, blocked him on Skype, ignored his texts, and run off from my boss and job. I wasn’t proud of myself for leaving Memphis high and dry without any notice, and I missed her very much. I missed our chats and our walks through the compound’s gardens. Missed listening to audiobooks with her in her suite, snuggled up on her bed with Jasper at our feet, snoring softly.

  Most of all, I missed being part of a real family. Up until the disaster of The Talk, as I now referred to it as, the Club had really opened their arms to me. Thanks in part to Memphis, Wren and her crew. Watching soft porn movies such as Christian and Massimo was never the same without Devon’s constant running commentary. That woman had the same oversharing problem Thayer possessed.

  With a rueful grin, I followed my exuberant bestie through the burgundy curtains just inside the main door and braced myself for what was about to transpire. Knowing Thayer, that could be just about anything.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus, Thayer, no more buying me lap dances,” I protested loudly over the thumping music. Taking another napkin from the table, dipping it in my glass of ice water, I wiped off the slobber the last dancer had left on my neck.

  An hour ago, I had the good sense to switch from Vodka Cruisers to ice water. Thayer didn’t, and now she was so wasted I was worried and scared for the safety of the strippers she lured to our table with her abundance of cash.

  “No more?” Thay wailed, her face scrunching up in an adorable drunken pout.

  “Are you crazy, lady? We need more, more dicks, more bare chests … more dicks!” Waving a fifty in the air, Thayer whistled through her teeth, getting the attention of a muscular dancer, with a man bun and dressed in a sparkly silver speedo-looking contraption barely covering his mammoth package.

  Oh Lord, save me from her sins, show mercy on me, and I promise to spend the rest of my life serving you.

  “What can I do for you ladies?” the unnaturally hung man asked, coming up to our table, resting his … area on the edge of the table.

  “My friend here would like to have you sit in her lap and grind on her,” Thayer slurred, looking not at his face but at his … area, shoving the fifty into the front of it like a seasoned pro. And going by the smirk on the hunk’s lips, he didn’t mind being handled at all.

  “Wait! What?” I choked, “No, no more!” But I was too late, and my lap was suddenly straddled, a bare arse on my thighs and an overpacked crotch sitting directly over my jean-covered mound.

  “What do you want, darlin’? Ask, and you shall be done.” His crude double entendre making my skin crawl as much as his naked body sitting on me was.

  “You can get off me, for starters,” I seethed, pushing my hands against his greased up chest in an attempt to get him off me.

  “Get you off, you mean, don’t ya, baby?” he smirked, licking his lips suggestively.

  Ducking my head to look around his large frame, I narrowed my eyes at Thayer, ready to give her a piece of my mind, only to find her staring over my shoulder. Her mouth opened, eyes wide and still glassy from the alc
ohol, but it wasn’t her ‘oh my god, look at that hunky specimen’ look. It was her ‘holy fuck, I am in trouble’ look.

  Oh Lord, what now?

  “No! She means, get the fuck off her lap right fucking now, or I will drag you out the back and beat the living shit out of you for even daring to put your fucking grubby hands on my girlfriend.”

  My hands froze on the dancer’s pecs, my nails digging into his skin at the sound of the voice that followed me in my dreams every night. Only, in my dreams, his voice was not hard and laced with vibrating anger.

  Rolling my eyes to the heavens, I redacted my offer of service and instead prayed for a natural disaster. Flood or a plague of insects would do—anything that could stop me from turning around and looking into those onyx eyes I loved so much.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  COLE

  My intel had to be wrong. No way was Oaklee at Body and Souls on Girls’ Night. No fucking way!

  Back in the country for two days now, I’d spent every second of the past forty-eight hours with eyes on Oaklee. Once Dad found out where she’d gone to, with some help from Ford and him hacking into Oaklee’s bank account, we discovered she had an income coming in from a rental property on the other side of town.

  A house she rented out to her parents.

  Hearing that he’d found her helped ease some of my crazy, being so far away and basically fucking helpless.

  That was when Booth took over, he put two prospects on the house, taking shifts watching her from a safe distance, while I took care of business in the jungles of the Congo, having to be content with spasmodic updates, when the connection allowed. That had been the worst of the last few weeks. Hearing one day that Oaklee’s parents had a raging party that went well into the morning, the prospect reporting that Oaklee slept one night in the backseat of her dad’s car, then nothing for days because we had to go black.