Grill (The Wounded Sons Book 3)

by Leah Sharelle

  “Don’t worry, Bombshell, Grill is just jealous I have a hot woman and he has his left hand,” Bastian gloated, aiming his smirk in my direction. I didn’t bother replying to his ribbing because he wasn’t wrong. I simply raised my middle finger and waved it at him— fucking smart-arse.

  “Grill,” Gabe’s strong, commanding voice yelled from outside the barracks, getting my attention.

  “Yo!” I called back.

  “Grab your rifle mate, we got some hunting for ya mate.”

  Fuck yes, finally!

  Swinging my long legs over the side of the bed, I quickly donned my army-issued steel-toe combat boots, then reached under my bunk for my rifle. This was when I was most confident, as soon as my hand gripped the barrel of my weapon. Nothing else entered my head other than the objective handed to me. Whatever the mission or target, my whole mindset was focused on one thing, where the bullet was going.

  I would worry about not hearing from Ford or Booth later if there was something to hear I would have had by now. I trusted Booth, and he trusted Ford, so all that was left was for me to concentrate on doing my thing with my SR 98, the rest would come eventually. I just had to have faith.

  ***

  I hated many things about the desert. It was hard to pick the most hateful thing, narrowing it down to the top five was easier.

  One– I hated the constant fucking dry heat. Hot wasn’t a strong enough description, 50 degrees Celsius was not enough to describe the heat.

  Two– the sand got into everything. The winds swept it into your eyes, into your clothes, and fuck every day I copped a mouthful of the fucking gritty shit.

  Three– even though we lived on the FOB, making it as safe as it could possibly be, you really didn’t know just how safe you were. The local forces we worked with still had the potential to turn their backs on you. Their loyalty to their countrymen entrenched deep in them, despite the horrors the Taleban inflicted on the country. Sometimes, I wore myself out watching my six and those of my team.

  Four– laying on the hard, hot ground for hours at a time, watching for a target to show themselves got old really fast.

  And five– I fucking hated the fucking heat!

  “Don’t tell me, you are going through your top five list of things you hate about the desert again,” Rafe muttered low in my earpiece. Rafe and I were Team FIVE’s sniper duo, where I went he went. As my spotter, Rafe was the most important person in my life; at least he was while on deployment. Where he went after we hit Ballarat or the apartments in Queenscliff, I didn’t know. Lance Corporal Rafferty Walsh was an enigma, he kept to himself during our leave time, he never talked all that much, but as a member of the team? You wanted Rafe at your back. Nothing escaped his eagle eye, absolutely nothing. He could be talking to you like he was now and still be scanning the landscape and see the slightest movement. His focus legendary, as was the way he protected his privacy.

  “I’m thinking about making it a top ten list,” I grunted, not taking my eye from the scope of my rifle.

  “Probably should considering you mention the fucking heat twice— got movement, target in sight.” Rafe’s tense no nonsense tone snapped me back into sniper mode.

  “Positive ID?”

  “Copy, lone insurgent, black clothing red headscarf, AK in left hand.”

  “Wind speed?”

  “Left to right, approx. 4kms. Do you have target?”

  “Target in sight. Dialling in index.” I twisted the knob on my gun, setting it to where I needed it.

  “Wind still at 4. Mil left. Shot’s all yours, Grill.”

  “Roger.”

  Taking in a deep breath, I calmed my heart rate, my finger on the trigger and squeezed gently. The kick to my shoulder welcome and familiar.

  “Centre hit, target confirmed down. Good shot Grill.”

  “Roger that,” I murmured quietly. I just took a life, with a few low spoken directions and a squeeze of my index finger I ended the heartbeat of a human being. Never once in all my career did I ever get the feeling of being powerful or worse, like God. It was not a heady experience to kill another person, even if it was the enemy. A soldier dealt with each kill in their own way; some did it differently and some the same. Rafe knew my way, which was why I could see in my peripheral vision he was moving away further down the embankment we had been perched on for the last four hours.

  I needed … a moment of reflection, to get it right in my head … to forgive myself, so to speak. Rafe gave me the direction, the wind speed, and all the information needed to perform the perfect shot, but in the end, it was me that pulled the trigger.

  “Objective achieved clean command. LC Walsh and Webber require transport back to the FOB,” Rafe chatted into the radio, his voice low and sombre. This wasn’t any easier for me either, but at the end of the day, we had to come to terms with our jobs. This was war, the man laying dead seven hundred metres from us wouldn’t have thought twice about killing either one of us, had he had the chance.

  “Copy that, Humvee will pick you up at the co-ordinates already given. Come on back boys, we catch the next transport back home in three hours,” Gabe replied.

  “Thank fuck for that, Cap. Over and out,” Rafe signed off, his boots coming up behind me.

  “Come on mate, we have a forty-minute walk back to the pick-up point, then we are getting the fuck out of here.”

  Dropping my head to rest on the barrel of my gun, I sighed deeply.

  “Nevermore ready to get out of here, mate,” I replied, rolling to my back and lifting my arm up for Rafe. Hooking his hand around my bicep, Rafe pulled me to my feet. Being in one position for so long wasn’t all that good on the muscles, sometimes I got so involved and focused on my objective, I forgot to move my legs and feet. Like now.

  “Come on, Grill, a forty-minute walk will get the blood pumping back again. You can tell me what the next five things you hate about the desert are on your list.” Rafe grunted a laugh as he started to slide down the embankment to the lower ground.

  “Ha! I know, number six, I fucking hate waking up to Ammo farting every single morning,” I called down to him, smiling when I saw his shoulders move up and down in his trademark silent laugh. Rafe didn’t laugh out loud any more than he talked.

  “Amen to that. We got lucky doing just a month this time.”

  A month. Another four weeks gone and I was no closer to finding Addy. Booth hadn’t made contact with me since I’d arrived over here, not that I was expecting him too, just hoped that he would call to tell me he found her.

  What I wanted him to tell me, I wasn’t too sure.

  Pregnant or not pregnant, it didn’t matter, I just wanted to find her.

  To experience that heaven with her, then tie her to me.

  Maybe.

  ***

  “You’re sure it’s her?” I asked Booth, feeling sweat trickle down my back.

  Making it back to Ballarat after three days in Queenscliff reporting in to our CO hadn’t helped with my mood. It was a wonder Gabe or any of my team members hadn’t beaten me to a bloody pulp during our enforced stay at the apartments. Normally, we got to go off as soon as we hit home soil, not this time. The major decided he wanted not only a face to face debriefing but then informed us we had to put some new commando inductees through their paces. Show them how Team FIVE did things and all that bullshit.

  By the third day, I was ready to throat punch one of them; by day four, Gabe was ready to throat punch me.

  “Only you can be certain of that mate, but from the intel she gave me without realising it, I reckon she is your girl,” Booth answered me, his grey eyes or facial expression not giving away anything. “Didn’t even need Ford in on this one, your girl kinda fell into my lap, sort of.”

  “She isn’t mine,” I grumbled, suddenly feeling unsure of what I was doing. For months all I had thought about was finding Addy, I hadn’t stopped to think what I was going to do when I found her.

  “Is that right? From where I s
it, she is more than that to you, Grill.” Booth got up and walked around the table in the war room to stand right in front of me, leaning his big frame against the edge of the scared table.

  “A man doesn’t waste his time and effort, driving himself insane over a one-night stand for no reason.” Booth held up his hand when I started to inject. “I am not talking about your concerns that she could be pregnant, I am talking about that feeling down deep in the pit of your soul, that anxiousness not knowing if she is okay, does she want you just as much as you want her. Does her heart beat fast just thinking about you, like yours does every time a vision of her face appears in your mind? That’s what I am talking about.”

  I fought the urge to squirm under Booth’s all-knowing scrutiny, the man had ninja powers for Christ’s sake.

  “I have known you for a lot of years now, Grill, and my son wouldn’t have wanted you on his team if you weren’t a good man as well as a quality soldier. You know that this woman is more to you than finding out if a child was conceived.”

  Nodding my head slowly, I conceded the truth in his words.

  “It’s fucking confusing me, Booth, never once has a woman got inside my head like this. And not just the baby thing, it’s … her. She has me so twisted inside I can’t concentrate on anything but her,” I admitted gruffly, not used to speaking about such things with another bloke. “Am I making sense?”

  Booth grunted a laugh, his hand reached into his pocket and brought out a small black remote control, pointing it at the line of security screens on the wall. Clicking a few buttons, the screens woke up and images of all the different rooms in the compound appeared. Flicking through Booth, stopped on one showing the laundry room; Stella standing by a large commercial washing machine came into view.

  “You are making perfect sense, mate. That woman there has had me so twisted since I met her over thirty years ago. Sometimes, I think I can’t breathe without knowing where she is at all times. And you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Booth stared at his wife going about the mundane task of filling the machine with dirty clothes, the intense way he watched her unnerving me and calming me all at the same time. I was about to say something when Stella stopped what she was doing and looked directly into the camera and smiled sweetly then pursed her lips in a kissing motion.

  “She knows?” I asked incredulously. “But how?”

  “Because I am her reason as much as she is mine. Love isn’t something to be scared of Grill, you can fight it, push it away or even deny it, but if it is real and she is the one, then nothing will stand in its way.” Booth smiled at the screen the clicked another button and they all faded to black again.

  Reaching for a piece of paper on the table, Booth handed it to me.

  “That’s the address of her clinic, go find out if it was a one-time thing or something better. Something that will make you a better man and change your life forever.”

  With that, Booth pushed off the table, his hand landed on my shoulder and squeezed it.

  “No better feeling in the world, trust me on that.” Then he walked out, leaving me with more advice I had ever received from another man in my whole life. Booth was a smart man, and now I had to find out if I was or not.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ADELINE

  This was not the best time for crying, not with a waiting room full of patients and not so patient owners. And yet here I was, hiding in the examination room blubbering while eating a chocolate bar, my third.

  My overindulgence not the reason for my tears, though it should be. Three KitKats didn’t sound bad over the course of a day, but … three in a half-hour period was nothing short of appalling.

  Nope, I was crying because of a major issue, one that could very well derail the rest of my pregnancy.

  When I snuck into the room to enjoy my magical delicious treat, and let’s face it, KitKats were pure orgasmic magic, I took off my shoes to give my poor feet a break and now I couldn’t get the arsehole things back on.

  “Dr Welham? Are you okay in there?” Olivia asked, knocking on the door.

  No, I am not. I haven’t stopped crying, and I eat everything in sight, I am fat and I don’t have a clue how to be a parent. And I wanted Marshall.

  “Fine, fine,” I choked out with a mouthful of gooey biscuity goodness, chewing faster so I could swallow before Olivia barged in and caught me in my guilty pleasure.

  Suddenly, a loud ruckus from the reception area caught my attention, a deep voice called out for … me?

  That voice, I knew that voice. I dreamed of that voice every single night, prayed that I would hear it again preferably between my legs while his tongue licked a path from my inner thigh right up to my—

  “Sir, do you have an appointment? I am sorry but you can’t go in … sir, please!” Olivia’s desperate plea was interrupted by the door being slammed open, revealing the man who haunted my dreams, day and night. My baby’s father.

  “Marshall.” His beautiful name fell from my lips like a prayer, thankfully I had nothing left in my mouth.

  “Holy shit,” Marshall cursed in a hushed whisper, his eyes centred directly on my stomach. Without conscious thought, my hands cradled my bourgeoning belly in a protective gesture. How was he here? Oh my god, he looked so good in his military uniform, sleeves rolled up passed his powerful forearms. The pants he wore did nothing to hide the thick thighs I remembered so well, the power behind them when he pounded into me.

  Oh Jesus, when did combat boots become a turn on?

  A line of sweat dotted on my forehead, my mouth as dry as the desert he most likely just came from if the beard he was sporting was anything to go by.

  During the time we spoke getting to know each other before we had copious amounts of sex, he told me most soldiers grew beards while on deployment to keep the sand at bay from their mouths. And because they couldn’t be bothered performing the mundane task of shaving when they could use that precious time sleeping. The night we spent together, he only had a shadow of whisker cover on his jaw.

  Of course, yes, I remember that whisker burn when he laid between my thighs and brought me to orgasm more times than I could count. The way his hair fell in his eyes, and the way it felt between my fingers when I brushed it away so I could see the lust in his beautiful, chocolate orbs.

  And here he was, standing in my examination room, staring at my belly that his child lay in. His deliciously clever mouth was gaping open like a fish gasping for breath.

  Welcome to parenthood.

  “Addy?” Marshall rasped, his eyes darting from my face to my stomach.

  “Um … surprise?” I offered rather pathetically. To be fair, I never thought this moment would ever actually occur; I didn’t know his last name or where he came from either. Once I found out about our little Sproggo and after a major meltdown, I did make a few calls to the army. Only to be informed there was absolutely no way in hell any information about a soldier could be given out to a civilian.

  So, I stopped looking for him.

  “Surprise? Is that all you got for me, surprise,” Marshall growled, stalking further into the room, sweeping the door closed behind him. Olivia’s shocked expression turning into a wide grin just before the door slammed.

  Nerves set in; I had truly gotten used to the idea that I was going to be a single parent. How good I was going to be was not yet determined but still.

  “Ah, I guess one of the condoms broke.” I shrugged not knowing what else to say. Saying what I really wanted to didn’t seem like a good idea right now, not going by Marshall’s deep scowl and the thunderous darkness in his eyes.

  “I know it did, and had you not slunk out of my room, you would have seen it for yourself,” Marshall reprimanded, that deep timbre that turned me on so much that night still sounded devastatingly amazing even though he was angry with me.

  “I didn’t slink out, and I simply saved both of us that awkward next morning routine.”

  “You have no idea what I wanted to say
to you the next morning; instead, you presumed and left.”

  “Of course I didn’t have a clue, because we barely knew each other,” I cried loudly, suddenly pissed off. Maybe it was the fact that I was twenty weeks pregnant and full of raging uncontrollable hormones. Or perhaps it was the fact that Marshall was here in my clinic looking hotter than should be legal and acting like I deliberately got pregnant and hid the baby from him. Or perhaps it was the cravings for KitKats that consumed my nearly every waking hour, whatever the reason a red rag had been waved in front of my face.

  “You were the one that came up with the ‘no last name rule’, I just went along with you. You said yourself it was a one-night thing that you weren’t looking for a relationship. I wholeheartedly agreed because neither was I,” I raged, pacing from one end of the room to the other and back again. Marshall’s very presence unnerved me, yet at the same time, I wanted nothing more to throw myself in his arms and beg him to work this out with me. To tell him that night was the best of my life, the only time I felt so much … so very much for another person in my life.

  “Now we have this,” I stopped pacing and stood still, my hands on our child growing inside me, “a miraculous mistake.” Even as I said it the word mistake tasted bitter on my tongue. I had been a mistake, a horrible, terrible mistake one neither of my parents wanted to deal with. They put me in foster care and never looked back, and at the age of two I’d spent most of those years with my paternal grandmother, but after she passed away, my father had no choice but to contact his former hook-up and declare she be a mother. The result in that phone call being me put into foster care.

  Never was a child of mine, accident or not, ever going to feel that neglect. Not as long as I had breath in my body.

  I opened my mouth to correct myself, but Marshall chose that precise moment to invade my personal space, his cologne enveloping me as soon as his large muscular frame pushed against me.