Gabriel (The Wounded Sons Book 1)

by Leah Sharelle

  BOOK ONE

  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

  EPILOGUE

  Copyright © 2019 Leah Sharelle

  GABRIEL: The wounded sons – Book One

  By Leah Sharelle

  All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN-13:

  Editing and Proofreading: R Corcoran

  Photography: Chic Professional Photography

  Cover Model Eric Morris:

  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

  Well it is time people. The sons are all grown-up.

  I hope Gabriel is just as special to you as his hunky father, Booth.

  Bastian and Cole and Dane and Mannix’s son James all get to tell their own tales of love, loss and living life in the Wounded Souls’ compound.

  DEDICATION

  Preparing for this book, I watched a lot of documentaries on the Australian Army. The more I watched the more emotional I became. I was so immersed in the brotherhood of the life the Commandos, I nearly forgot that I was writing a romance novel.

  To say I was affected profoundly by each story is an understatement.

  So, I dedicate this to all those who have served, are still serving and those who live with the nightmare of war every day. The Royal Australian Army, Airforce and Navy all put their lives on the line for us.

  LEST WE FORGET

  PROLOGUE

  GABRIEL

  “It is good to have you home boy. Your mother misses the shit out of you when you’re not here.”

  I smirked at my father, giving him a chin lift.

  Translation: I miss you too my favourite and only child but I am not telling you that.

  “I miss her too.” My smirk turned into a soft smile as I watched my beautiful mother fuss over the cooking of the food for another Wounded Souls’ barbeque. The only difference between this one and the others was the happy couple swaying slowly wrapped in each other’s arms on the makeshift dance floor.

  Two of my best mates finally got their happily ever after.

  I couldn’t be happier for Zander and Shiloh, for years they were thick as thieves and even thicker in trouble. All of us kids at one time or another followed Shiloh Johnston in one of her hair-brained schemes, all of them ended in punishment from our parents. The raven-haired princess had a knack for smelling out the worst and fastest way to a grounding.

  Most of my best childhood memories involved Shiloh and Zander. As teens, my friendship with Zander got a little rocky at times, we enjoyed pushing each other’s buttons and I took it to another level when he and Shiloh started their secret relationship. I found great pleasure in pissing the big bastard off, not that it took much more than standing too close to his girlfriend or laying a kiss on her cheek.

  “I can not believe we are sitting here watching Shy-Shy and Zander dancing as a married couple,” I marvelled, laughing when Zander dipped his new bride back and laid a more than heavy kiss on her lips. Then I laughed even louder when I heard the familiar growl from her father all the way across the other side of the compound’s quadrangle.

  “Hard to believe I used to stand here at one time and watch her burning around on her battery-powered pink Harley,” dad reminisced, a sad smile on his face.

  “What’s up, old man? Everything okay?” I asked, suddenly worried. The club recently had some trouble from an outlaw club who had tried to infiltrate our town with their filth. The dirty bastards attacked Shiloh, then it all came to a head at her hen’s night. I still smiled every time I thought about the story of Shiloh, the club’s VP attacking a huge biker with little meek Meagan, both of them wielding broomsticks dressed in barely-there dresses.

  “Nothing wrong, mate, don’t worry. I’m just feeling a little nostalgic I s’pose, seeing her all grown-up and married and all the kids here, other than Cole.”

  I nodded thoughtfully at my dad, understanding where his head was at now.

  Both Bastian and I had only a few more hours before we had to head back to base. Cole had not been able to get leave for his brother’s wedding as he was just at the beginning of his basic training, it didn’t feel right here without him. Growing up the way we did on the compound, all the kids were close. From birth we bonded, most of us the same age, Shiloh the only one older by a handful of years.

  I leaned my body closer to my father and gave his shoulder a bump with mine. “You planning on handing things over to Shy soon?” I asked quietly, not actually believing my father could ever think about being anything else than the President of the Wounded Souls.

  “Not just yet son, but it will happen one day. I don’t want to hold the position forever, and lately I have thought a lot about standing down and spending more time with your mum.”

  My eyebrows raised hearing that, not for any other reason than finding it laughable that dad thought he didn’t spend enough time with mum. They were attached at the hip most of the time, with only a few hours of each day when mum was at her store or dad off doing club shit. And when he wasn’t with her he had eyes or trackers on her for every second she was out of his sight.

  “Oh, get stuffed smart-arse,” dad grumbled good-naturally, knowing what I was thinking. My father’s devoted love to my mother was legendary around the club, he made no secret of it, never tried to hide it. Their love was pure and so fucking amazing, I rarely got embarrassed from it; quite the opposite really. My parents’ love for each other was the yardstick by which I lived my life.

  I wanted it all or nothing, which was why, at the age of twenty-one, I was still single and still looking for my one. I wasn’t in a hurry to fall in love, though; I had far too many things to accomplish before thoughts of finding a woman. Being a soldier was my first and foremost most important goal.

  “You get your orders yet Gabe?” dad asked me in a quiet voice, so soft I had to strain to hear him, the tension in his bulking frame tangible.

  “Yeah dad, both Bastian and I received them before we left for the wedding,” I told him just as quietly. “Our deployment, and our applications for commando selection training was approved for the next selection process. We go straight in after our deployment is up,” I informed him all at once.

  Dad blew out a long breath. “Damn, son, that is a big ask on your body and mind. Can’t you wait for the next selection? Give your
self a few month’s break; this will be your first deployment remember, it isn’t an easy time,” dad said with an air of wisdom.

  My father was without a doubt my hero. From the age of six, I knew that I wanted to follow his footsteps and become a soldier like him. I think deep down he wanted me too, but he also hoped that I would want to take over the leadership of his club. I loved the Wounded Souls and what they stood for, then same code the bikers lived by when they were in the army.

  Trust, Honour and Loyalty.

  I remembered when I was just a kid and hiding in the darkened corner of the war room, I use to listen to dad and my uncles talk of their time in the army and especially their commando unit. The way they spoke in hushed tones of the bad times and bellowed with laugher remembering the good times pulled at something deep inside of me. Neither dad nor the other brothers spoke badly of those times, despite some horrible stories they reminisced over.

  I wanted that; I wanted to be part of a team. I mean, I already was, here at the compound. I had a cut, was a member of the club, not an officer or really even a full patched member. Not like Zander and Shiloh or James, Mannix’s son, who was also a cop. The AFP became his calling, and he balanced the two roles with ease. The Australian Federal Police looked at his membership in the Souls as an advantage rather than a hinderance mainly due to the fact there was no outlaw shit going on here, all above board and completely legal.

  It wasn’t a gavel or a patch that drove me, or kept me awake at night. I dreamed of having my own green beret, that and so much more. I wanted to lead a team like my father did. The leadership and mateship and if I was being honest with myself, the danger of war, the punishment of training my body spurred me to achieve nothing less.

  Both Bastian and I begged our dads to put us through pseudo training exercises like they experienced in the army when we hit our teens. At first, they took it easy on us, just simple obstacle courses that we mastered way too soon for their liking. It hadn’t been long for them to see that our commitment was fair dinkum and not just a young boy’s passing fancy. Before we knew it, we were doing similar exercises they did in the selection process for the special forces. Our bodies grew over the years from gangly teens to pumped muscled machines, thanks to the training schedules our fathers put us through for years, and thank god they did. It made passing through RMC-D a lot easier, along with their knowledge.

  “Dad, I don’t want to wait, I want to be a commando. You know it’s all I have ever wanted,” I protested defensively.

  “Gabe, I get it I do, being in Team Five and leading them gave me more sense of pride than anything I did in my life before you and your mum happened to me. The army moulded me into the man I am today, but in saying that,” my dad said quickly when I started to interrupt him, “I came back into civilian life with more than my share of baggage, all of us did. Starting this club was a way of keeping us together and starting the healing process many of us needed.” Looking over my shoulder, his eyes clouded over, and I knew he was looking at Steel, the club’s former VP and sniper. The story of the worst ambush in commando Team Five’s history was one my dad did tell me willingly.

  That was the day my father decided to leave the army for good, and with his five closest friends started the Wounded Souls. A brotherhood nothing could break but only grew stronger over the years.

  We all heard the stories of Rogue, a man hell-bent on ruining my dad. The terror he put the club and the women through many years ago. The lost brothers, one I carried as my middle name. Before I was born, Kurt Dundee Wilson gave his life to save those of my mum, Aunt Charlotte and a three-year-old Shiloh. Not long after that, the club got hit with a double tragedy when they lost their long-time friend and member Vegas, but the saddest loss was that of Darth, my father’s friend, and club brother.

  Ever since I could remember, Darth was part of my childhood. I never met the man in person, but he was a big part of the club right from the huge photo of him in the main room of the compound to the fact he was still protecting Shiloh in a dying promise— never to leave her. Getting used to a young Shiloh talking and interacting with a ghost didn’t seem all that weird to the kids than it had been for the adults, Deck especially still had a hard time dealing every now and then.

  Taking a pull of my light beer, as soon as the wedding reception finished I had to head back to report at the base, I looked over at my dad.

  “No baggage here old man, just ambition to get my career goin’,” I reassured him. I was more than ready to get through my first deployment in one piece and into the selection training.

  Dad’s eyebrows raised and his eyes narrowed at me, Vincent Booth former CO and president of the Souls looked sternly at me with his grey steely eyes all knowing, all seeing.

  “All right son, I will let it go for now. You better go spend the rest of the time you have left here with your mum. With the wedding and all she is getting a little worked up, her baby boy will be leaving for an extended period of time overseas in a hostile environment.” His gaze immediately sought out mum again; it didn’t escape my attention the way his grey eyes, identical to mine, softened or the way his fingers traced the thick white gold band on his ring finger.

  Even after twenty-one years of marriage dad still saw mum as his beacon of light, his reason.

  Damn I want that.

  One day and one step at a time. First, dad’s footsteps, then love.

  CHAPTER ONE

  GABRIEL

  Afghanistan sucked donkey shit.

  The heat, the baron land, and especially the fucking sand.

  Sand was your constant companion whether you invited it or not. It got in your socks, your bed, up your nose and in your fucking jocks. It was just as well I was out of here tomorrow, because I was ready to go postal on someone.

  Months and months of hell, and in less than twenty-seven hours my arse was out of here to go into another form of hell. One I was honestly looking forward to though. Don’t get me wrong, being here and serving my country was a goal I was proud to have achieved. I thrived on the teamship, the strategy of war, like I was born to be a soldier.

  My biggest dream, my all-time desire, was only a matter of days away.

  Commando selection.

  “Staff Cadet Booth.”

  I stood to attention at the authoritative commanding voice from behind me.

  “Yes, Sir!” I answered immediately, resisting the urge to shake the sand from my short beard, I didn’t dare. Captain Donaldson, my CO and mentor was a stickler for proper protocol.

  “At ease soldier,” he said, pointing to the bench I just rose from, which I sat straight back down on. “I just wanted to tell you personally, damn fine job on that raid yesterday. Your bravery and your intuition saved a lot of men.”

  I gave myself an internal fist bump, but on the outside remained stoic and calm. It was always good to be praised, especially by someone I looked up to, but I was not going to let it go to my head.

  “Thank you, Sir, it wasn’t just me though, Johnston put his arse on the line right behind me in that cave.” I was quick to inform him. Bastian was just as crazy as I was when it came to being a soldier. He grew up with the same stories of his dad, as well as the same hero worship.

  “Yes, he has just the same balls as his old man, as do you. Vincent Booth was a commendable CO, all of Team Five have quite the reputation, and I don’t need to tell you they are probably the best team in the history of the commandos.”

  I lifted my chin at my captain, at the mention of my father, some people would cringe at being compared all the time to someone with such an admirable record, with such huge shoes to fill. Not me, my dad was not only my hero, he was a hero of the green beret I longed to own for myself. In no way was I going to be better than him, his reputation as a leader was written in the history records, and some that couldn’t be recorded. All I hoped was to make him proud and do a tenth of what he achieved in his career as a soldier.

  “Thank you, Sir, he is a great man,”
I agreed.

  “I hear you are about to undertake a very big task, straight into selection practically the minute you land home. That is some dedication soldier.”

  “Yes, Sir, but nothing I am not ready for, Sir,” I answered with unbridled confidence.

  “You know if anyone else said that to me I would have laughed in their face and told them they had no hope,” Captain Donaldson told me as he got up from the bench seat. “Coming from you though—” holding out his hand to me, I took it receiving a firm shake. “Good luck to you and Johnston, I have a feeling you won’t be needing it. See you back here in a year soldier.” My captain then turned and left me standing there in shock, almost forgetting to salute him.

  “Mate why are you staring at cap like that? You got the hots for him?” Bastian asked with a laugh, plonking himself down on the bench, his big frame making the wooden seat groan in protest.

  Sebastian Johnston was a huge man; he out-weighed me by a good twenty-five kilos, all of it pure muscle. He was a clone of his father; big, loyal, and a fucking great fighter. Bastian held the company’s golden glove title, undefeated after nineteen bouts and a bloody genius with a gun.

  He was my best mate and I wouldn’t go into battle without him, despite his smart-arse mouth.

  “Oh, you’re a funny fucker Ammo, you spent too much time with Steel as a kid,” I quipped at him, using the nickname he earned in the first week we arrived over here.

  The thing about Bastian was he always came prepared for the worst, I knew it was because of the story of the ambush his dad and mine found themselves in along with the rest of their team. Deck gave us a piece of advice one night back at the compound before we took off for Duntroon.

  “Never run out of ammunition boys, always carry extra on you. It could be the difference between making it out of a fight and not. If we just had—” Deck hung his head, his shaky intake of breath spoke volumes of what had happened all those years ago and how it could never be forgotten by the club’s SAA no matter how much time passed.