Gabriel (The Wounded Sons Book 1)

by Leah Sharelle

  “Sounds like an interesting way to grow up, I’m sure my childhood was boring compared to yours,” I told him, lying through my teeth. Having cancer, the majority of my childhood was anything but boring, but it was also far from fun.

  “It was pretty cool, I loved every minute of living on the compound. Former soldiers turned bikers for fathers meant we learned everything from hand to hand combat to knowing how to build a motorcycle and even paint it. In fact, the reason my team and I live in the complex on the island instead of on the base is because we like the close living. It is more of a family feeling than the barracks.” Gabriel’s eyes lit up with warmth as he spoke of his family and team members, making me a little jealous of the picture he was painting for me. My brothers had not given me many good memories to look fondly back on, neither had dad for that matter. Not that he was a bad father, he did the best he could considering the life force of the family had been lost to him and us.

  Mum did everything; she put the bins out on rubbish night and she even laid dad’s clothes out for the next day. His struggle was real after she died, most of the time it is the women that struggle after the death of their partners. Not in my father’s case, he had been thrown right into the deep end with four kids and one of them sick. I really don’t think he had time to grieve properly. He spent the next five years after mum’s death just going through the motions, he left the rig and got a land-based job but he was never truly happy until we got the news of my first remission and he went straight back to working out in the sea.

  “Devon? Did you hear me?” Gabriel’s concerned tone plucked me out of my thoughts and back to where I should have stayed.

  “Huh?”

  “I asked you about the old Caddy you got out of, but I think I lost you somewhere there.”

  Hiding my foolish wanderings with a forced laugh, I steadied myself by taking a sip of water giving myself a minute to collect my thoughts. I really had to stop letting my mind take these crazy detours before Gabriel decided to back away.

  “Oh, the car, well that belongs to Burt, he is an institution in town and so is his taxi.”

  “That car is a taxi?” Gabriel asked shocked, making me giggle for real this time.

  “Yep. He has had it since brand new, so the story goes. Back in the day, he was an actual taxi driver, the only one in Queenscliff, in fact. When his wife died and his kids all moved away closer to Melbourne, he just kept doing what he had always done only without the official permits required. Now he lives off a pretty meagre pension, so to help him out, most of the locals still call upon him for a ride and leave a fare in the backseat pocket. Technically, we aren’t supposed to pay him, but Burt is special, and we all love him,” I said with a wistful smile, the old coot really was one of my most favoured people.

  “Community spirit is a good thing and worth breaking the rules,” Gabriel agreed. “So, don’t you have a licence, surely you must drive your dogs around to get as far as Swan Island?”

  I felt the familiar pang of panic shoot down to my stomach when he asked his question. It wasn’t a bad question, or even a suspicious one, but answering it wold require skipping over some of the explanation. I had forgotten I told him I lived on the other side of town and I should have known he would remember that.

  “Um, yeah I have a licence, but I don’t have a car. I was in a car accident when I was a small child, and sort of have a little case of the nerves when I get behind the wheel, ya know? It isn’t a huge problem, Queenscliff isn’t really that big. Most of the shops are in the one main street, plus I like to walk. My job as a dog walker kind of makes that kind of a requirement,” I said as nonchalantly as I could manage, hoping to get him off the subject of cars, and maybe just maybe I would not have to tell him everything just yet.

  I was telling him the truth, I could drive and have done many times. A quick trip to Hesse street to get a paper I could handle no problems, it was the highway driving I struggled with though. Too many trucks for my liking.

  “You walk dogs, so those guys with you today aren’t yours?”

  “Nope. They are my Monday crew, tomorrow I have three more in the morning and two booked for the afternoon. It keeps me out of trouble.”

  “Sounds interesting. What about your family, anymore unique names like yours?” he asked, making me sigh in relief.

  “Ah, that would be a no. Unfortunately, I was the only member of the family bestowed with a weird arse name. My three older brothers, Kyle, Andrew and Mitchell all received normal names compared to mine,” I answered with a huff of disgust. Really mother what were you thinking?

  “Well, I happen to like the name Devon and I am really liking the lady behind the name,” Gabriel murmured, then sat back in his seat when the waitress arrived with our food.

  “Here ya go lovies, two house specials,” Maggie, the waitress, announced with a snap of her gum as she shoved the plates on the table with little to no flair, then turned and walked away not bothering to listen to my dates protest.

  “But, I didn’t order anything yet,” Gabriel spluttered looking down at the plate in front of him with a frown. I tried not to laugh, honestly, I did, but the look of horror on his face as he took in the huge portion of lamb and vegies was priceless.

  “Welcome to small town living where everyone thinks it is their job to make your dinner selection for you,” I said laughing, then picked up my fork and started to dig into my serving of prawns and chorizo sausage, yum my favourite.

  “How come you get seafood and I get lamb?” Gabriel grumbled, looking from our plates then up at me.

  “Well, I would have to confirm with Frank, but my guess would be he knows you are from the base which to him and his crazy logic means you are a soldier so you should eat meat. I get this because he has known me since birth and knows what I like,” I answered simply, popping one juicy plump butter covered prawn into my mouth and smirked.

  Gabriel’s eyes narrowed at me, but he picked up his own fork then pointed it at me.

  “Fine, but you tell Frank I happen to like seafood, all kinds of seafood and expect to be served seafood next time we are here,” he said, then started to cut up his meat, leaving me speechless, the delectable morsel in my mouth suddenly forgotten about.

  “You want to go out with me again?” I asked almost stupefied.

  Gabriel’s lips thinned my god and what lips they were. Manly and… could you describe a man’s lips as manly? Of course, they were manly— he was a male. I really had to read more romance novels to get some good material, so my inner thoughts sounded sexier.

  “Devon, have you gone off again?” Gabriel’s manly lips were now tilted in a knowing smirk.

  Damn, he was starting to figure me out already.

  “Sorry, I have these moments when I sort of zone out and overthink the question someone’s asked me, then I stray from that thought and go in a totally different direction. I was trying to figure out how to describe your lips better than manly, because you are a man so of course they are, then it came to me that I should read more loved-up books for better—”

  “Okay, Devon, here it is. Yes, I want to see you again, here or at any other place in town. We could go for a walk or even a drive along the coast, I really don’t care what we do, I just want to get to know you, spend some time together.” His voice was a low rumble, and I could almost imagine him whispering all kinds of other things to me while laying on top of me, our nude bodies slick with sweat—

  “I am also getting that you are slightly coo-coo, but I can work with that,” he added. He laughed riotously when I picked up a fat slice of chorizo sausage and tossed it in his direction, the plump bit of meat hitting him dead centre in his chest, leaving a tiny oil stain on his blue button-down shirt. When he first met me on the curb, I must admit I was a tad disappointed he wasn’t wearing his army uniform. While his tight denim jeans were sexy, I had a real hankering to see him all gussied up in his fatigues.

  Narrowing my eyes at him, and his cocky smirk, I huff
ed a deep sigh. “I am not coo-coo, just a little spacey.”

  “You’re a dick’s whisper away from fruit-loop crazy, but I find it cute Pixie,” he said, grabbing the napkin off the table and dipping the tip in his glass of water and dabbing at the stain. I watched in complete fascination as he vigorously rubbed his napkin covered finger over the stain in a circular motion. He did this for a good minute until finally the stain was completely gone, not to be seen.

  “What?” Gabriel asked innocently when he noticed me watching him. If I had a mirror in front of me I’m sure it would show me looking smug.

  “And you think I’m nuts,” I muttered sarcastically.

  “I’m in the military, we prefer the term exacting,” Gabriel announced, humour creeping into his tone.

  Hiding my smile, I dug back into my dinner. A warm feeling of rightness settling inside me. Everything about being here with Gabriel Booth was feeling perfectly perfect and I was going to make sure it stayed that way.

  My small secret wouldn’t be so significant after we spent more time together.

  Right?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  GABRIEL

  After dinner, I asked Devon if she was up for a walk, so after another round of glares and unspoken warnings directed at me from the patrons in the bar, we headed outside, our hands laced warmly together. I was a public display kind of a guy; my parents had never hidden their affection for one another, they were always touching each other. Whether it be a small passing tender touch of the fingertips, a chaste kiss as dad made his way through the main room passing mum on his way, to their full contact cuddles.

  My father was not one to give a shit what anyone thought, other than the woman he loved more than his own life. I was yet to find that woman, but judging by the steady thumping of my heart from just holding Devon’s hand…

  “Well, what would you like to do now?” Devon asked me, breaking into my thoughts.

  Anything that doesn’t include you letting go of my hand, I begged silently.

  “How about a walk? I have been based here for the last few years, but I don’t think I have actually toured the whole main street before,” I admitted truthfully. Most of the time, when my team and I got back from a mission or a deployment, we crashed for days at our individual places then headed back to our hometown to wait for the next page from operations. Going back to Ballarat was usually the first on our list of priorities after catching up on much-needed sleep, that was until earlier today.

  “Oh no! I need to remedy that right away,” Devon said with a mock shudder, her free hand going to her chest and clutching it dramatically making me laugh. She did that a lot tonight, made me laugh more than I had with a woman on a first date. Her obvious ‘spacey’ personality was cute as hell, and the way she diverted away from the topic of conversation and shared what was going on inside her mind at the time was fucking adorable. Instantly, my thoughts went to my mum’s flock. Her friends and fellow club member’s wives, who all had larger than life personalities, each of them with a unique quirk that made up who they were. I couldn’t help think how well Devon would fit in with the dynamics of the Flock.

  “Well, lead the way Pixie, I am at your mercy tonight,” I announced with a slight bow, my smile widening when her hand squeezed mine, her thumb rubbing enticingly over mine.

  “Hmmm, that is a delicious thought, what to do with the big bad hunky Ninja?” she mused, her lips pursed as if she trying to figure out what to do with me.

  I had a number of ideas, all of them involving us being very naked and very sweaty.

  “Ninja? Maybe not but close,” I answered her with a wink. There was never going to be a time where I could share with anyone about my job, other than my team. What I did, the things… the things I had seen in my military career were not exactly pillow talk topics of conversations. Sometimes I had a hard enough time dealing with the atrocities of the battle field, even more so with my role in Special Ops. I could only hope if Devon was going to be in my life after tonight she would understand parts of my life would always be off limits.

  The night air was cool on my skin as we headed down the uneven footpath, the large palm trees that lined the street so thick it made it feel colder than if we were out in the open. Taking a leap, I gently pulled on Devon’s hand and brought her closer to my side, then quickly let go of her hand and instead wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to me. Devon pleased me to no end when she sighed happily and simply snuggled herself deeper against me, then even more when her arm came across my waist, hooking her hand into the belt loop on my side.

  Her height was perfect for me to have her completely wrapped around me, her head literally resting on my chest as we walked slowly down the street, neither of us talking or taking notice of the shop fronts we passed by.

  We walked like this for a few more minutes, until we reached a crowd of people standing in front of an ice-cream van and had to disconnect to get around them. Not willing to let go of her completely, I laced our hands back together and navigated us through the mill of people.

  “Ice-cream is certainly a favourite for beach goers,” Devon said with a chuckle, her pretty face stared dreamily at the colourful van.

  “You want one, babe?” I asked, immediately shoving my hand into my back pocket for my wallet. The endearment rolling off my tongue as if I had said it to her every day of my life.

  “Not yet, maybe on the way back?” she asked hopefully.

  “Sure, whatever you want Pixie.” Pulling her back into our closer cuddle. Holding her hand was great, but this closeness? Yeah, I could get used to this.

  Devon directed us down a hill that took us away from the shops and down to a deserted grassed picnic area. In the distance, the sound of the water lapping at the sand the only sound stirring the night. Quickly, I sought out a bench seat tucked away under a palm tree and pulled her down on it with me, making sure to keep her close.

  “Tell me about yourself Pixie?” I asked softly. Her head was laying on my pec, her hand still draped across my belly, only this time her hand had found its way under my shirt letting her soft fingers trace the skin just above my hip.

  Instinctually, I wrapped my free arm across hers and clasped my hands together, encasing her to me.

  “I have three brothers, I told you that. They are a lot older than me; two are married, well one is, and the other is living in sin, much to his partner’s annoyance. Those two have kids, and Kyle lives at home with dad and me. Dad works on an oil rig, so mostly it’s just Kyle and me during the week.” Devon voice sounded muffled as she spoke, even through my shirt I could feel the heat from her mouth as it moved against me.

  “Hell, three brothers, I bet they are protective of their little sister.”

  “Oh, you would think so, wouldn’t you? It is more a case of them controlling me, and I am actually surprised my phone hasn’t been blowing up with texts from Kyle demanding to know where I am. Or the other two, because I know full well that Kyle will message them once he discovers I am not home,” she huffed.

  “That bad hey? I get that though; the Wounded Souls’ men are over the top when it comes to their women. My father is so alpha with my mum he has security monitors in every room just so he can keep an eye on her when he isn’t with her.” Laughing at how creepy that sounded and Devon’s shocked gasp I continued to explain, “He isn’t a mad, crazy stalker, and mum can do whatever she wants. He just loves her so much, he can’t bear the thought of being without her. My old man suffered really badly from PTSD when he got out of the military, and after a rocky start, it was my mum who saved him. She still does to this day, thirty years later.”

  Devon’s head shifted against my chest in a nod. “I understand all too well the effects of post traumatic stress. It can be debilitating even years after the incident that caused it.” Something in her voice gave me a cold chill, she sounded like she was speaking from experience. Suddenly, I remembered our conversation about her not liking cars.

  “The
car accident you were in when you were a kid?” I asked.

  “Yep,” she agreed, “ I was five when a semi crossed over a medium strip at eighty kilometres and ploughed into the car I’d been travelling in with my mum. She’d stopped on the side of the road and just finished re-buckling my belt when the truck hit us side on.”

  My arms tightened around Devon’s trembling body, dread filled me as I asked her my next question.

  “Your mum?”

  “Killed, she didn’t stand a chance. The police and emergency workers who attended the scene had been shocked that I survived as intact as I did. I broke some bones and suffered deep lacerations to my body. For me, though, the worst of the accident was the visions it left me with later. It took many years after that seeing a psychologist that specialized in childhood trauma to be able to stop the visions of seeing my mum die so violently right in front of me.” Devon finished saying with a quiet, shuddering sigh, breaking my heart.

  “Shit baby, I didn’t mean to bring it all back up for you,” I murmured against her soft hair.

  “Oh no, you didn’t. I love talking about my mum, the accident is always with me but I learned some great techniques to replace the bad with better and happier memories. It was really hard at first, I remember I used to wake up screaming bloody murder sending my dad and brothers into me in the middle of the night in a frenzy to wake me from a nightmare. I don’t sleep all that well still, though, you don’t easily forget seeing someone literally have their head ripped off from sharp jagged metal, but I have the nightmares under control… most of the time,” Devon said so matter-of-factly pride swelled in me, her strength in the face of something so devastating would make any serving solider proud and in awe of her.

  “I wish like hell you didn’t have to go through that Pixie. I know something about coping techniques, my team and I regularly use them in our line of work. Still, a five-year-old going through that must have been fucking awful. I am proud of you Devon, sounds like you haven’t let that time bury you in grief.”