Rafe (The Wounded Sons Book 4)

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Rafe (The Wounded Sons Book 4) Page 2

by Leah Sharelle


  “You can mate, you are the only one holding yourself back from something with her,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  Lifting my beer to my lips, I took a gulp, not tasting the hops or the cold liquid as it trickled down my throat.

  “If only that were true,” I muttered back, walking off, leaving my captain standing there staring at me. I knew this because I could feel his grey eyes boring into my back until I turned the corner of the main building and out of his sight.

  It sucked being a sniper sometimes, that sixth sense of being watched wasn’t always a good thing to have.

  Neither was being responsible for someone losing their life.

  CHAPTER TWO

  PEYTON

  He’s home.

  For the first time in six weeks, I felt like I could take a breath and relax.

  This was only the second deployment for Rafe since the fire at the vet clinic, and it was no easier on me than the first one had been.

  Six months ago, the worst day of my life was replaced in my memory when Justin Johnston decided that Addy’s vet clinic needed to be burnt down, with her and me in it.

  Thankfully Addy’s man Grill realised she was missing from the compound and rushed to the clinic with Rafe, the Souls and a bunch of firefighters. They came crashing into the back room where my boss and I were trapped and saved us.

  Well, they saved me from the flames, but not from the nightmares and deathly fright that Justin will be back to finish the job. That night I truly thought I was going to die. All of the times when I was eighteen and wished for death, for the pain to go away once and for all, paled in comparison to my begging prayers to live.

  Shame and regret filled me since, fancy wanting to die, but when I had been faced with the grim reality that I might, all I wanted to do was stay alive and start living again.

  Unfortunately, with Justin still out there somewhere, living wasn’t exactly what I was doing. Surviving? Maybe, but only just. The only time I felt truly alive was when a certain black-haired, muscle-bound sniper was around.

  After the night of the fire, when he carried me possessively to the ambulance, not letting me go once, even sitting on the gurney with me on his lap while the paramedics looked me over, Rafe became my beacon of light. There was nothing more than friendship between us, but he quickly inserted himself into my life, and now I wasn’t sure if I could do without his strength.

  In the quiet of my house, I could admit that he meant a hell of a lot more to me than just a friend, but I would never say those words out loud and absolutely not to Rafe. If all we would have was friendship, then I was taking it. Just as long as he was in my life in some small way, then I could cope with the lonely nights and dreams of a romance with him.

  “I’m liking the pink. It suits you.” I smiled at the sound of the deep voice. I knew he would come and find me as soon as I saw him spotting me heading out of the compound’s main building.

  “Just like black and camo green suits you,” I answered, sliding down the bench seat to give Rafe room to sit down.

  “Hey there, Bunny, I missed you,” Rafe whispered, his arm going around my shoulders and pulling me into him. That was Rafe, he was a toucher. Not in an inappropriate way; in fact, I was the only one he gave affection to really. Other than the slaps on the back to his teammates, Rafe kept a respectable distance from the women at the club. Except me.

  Leaning into his embrace, I lowered my head to his chest and breathed in deeply, my nose buried in his black tee.

  “I missed you too, Rafe, missed you too.” My arms winding around his thick torso, holding myself to him.

  “Have you been doing okay? Your last letter didn’t give me a good vibe, babe.”

  “There were some good and some bad days,” I admitted, “sometimes I feel like I am making progress, then I see someone on the street that looks like him or sounded like him and I can’t move. I am so sick of it, Rafe.” My body shuddered involuntarily and I hated that. I had spent years getting better only for a man I didn’t even know to destroy me all over again.

  “Hmmm, I get that Bunny, time is what you need, just time,” Rafe murmured, his chin on the top of my head.

  “And your cuddles,” I hummed, tightening my arms around him. His body was too thick for me to clasp my hands together behind his back, but that is what I loved so much about Rafe, his muscles and his cuddles. No one would think, looking at his gruff exterior, that the man loved to sit on a couch and play with my hair while I sat on his lap or snuggled into the crook of his arm, but he did—for me.

  It scared me how quickly I had come to depend on Rafe for comfort. It frightened me even more that he allowed me to depend on him. Before the fire, sitting at home alone never bothered me; baking, arts and crafts and walking my dogs filled my time just nicely. I liked my own company, preferred it even–until I didn’t.

  Rafe literally fitted himself onto my couch and my life and … stayed. Now, I couldn’t bear to be without him.

  His deployments have been hard on me, the first one more so because the clinic had not been up and running at that time, so I basically locked myself in my house and hid from the world. Addy often visited, insisting on making sure I ate and spoke to at least one person once a day. Her husband, Grill, served on the same team as Rafe, leaving Addy alone at the same time, so she was the right person to help me figure out how to deal with the long periods of loneliness. And that fact annoyed me. Since when did I all of a sudden become lonely or not know how to fill in time? Before I met Rafe, I had everything in my life under control. Yes, it was just my dogs and me, no family to speak of, at least none that I spoke to, but I was certainly contented.

  Twenty-five, I owned my own home, a better than competent vet nurse and a contributing member of society. Now I was scared of my own blasted shadow.

  “So, I’m staying here in Ballarat tonight, want to hang out with me? Maybe catch a movie, or you could commandeer Stella’s kitchen and make some of those homemade donuts?” Rafe suggested his voice rumbling at the top of my head, causing tiny sparks to shoot through my body right down to the place that had been dormant for five years.

  “Sneaky Rafe, using my love of baking against me,” I drawled, clucking my tongue, “I don’t mind baking for you, but can we go to my place instead of staying here?” I tried to keep my voice light, but even I could hear my trepidation. The Wounded Souls were a great group of guys, they have done nothing but help me with my trouble getting over the attack. It was just … I felt guilty because they were taking my side over a family member.

  Carefully Rafe peeled me away from his chest, his big hands cupping my face.

  “Bunny, we can go anywhere you like, you know these guys will always protect you. You are part of the Souls family, honey, and you have nothing to fear here.” Rafe’s knuckles swept down one cheek, the combination of rough and smooth of his skin igniting another round of sparks.

  Resisting the urge to squeeze my legs together and ease the discomfort between my legs, I concentrated on his kind words instead and the meaning behind them.

  “I know, and trust me, I am not afraid of them. I guess I feel partly responsible for them taking my side over … his,” I admitted, choosing not to say the name but it still hung between us, “especially Kelsey and Jason, being his parents.”

  I knew Kelsey well. She had been coming into the clinic for as long as I had been working there and years before then even. I met Jason a few times when he came in with her to drop off or pick up her rabbits, and in all honesty, they were the best couple. Jason doted on Kelsey and vice-versa, the perfect couple much like every other couple at the compound. There was something to be said for alpha protective men.

  “Aww Bunny, don’t. There is no reason for you to feel any kind of guilt or blame, you did nothing wrong, honey. It was all him, his decisions, his fault. This isn’t something new to the club. He has always hated them, choosing to judge his family not for what they did or stand for but because they ride bikes and wea
r leather cuts.”

  “Why?” I asked, loving that Rafe was still holding my face between his large hands, bringing our heads close, so close that I could see the different shades of green that made up his beautiful eyes.

  “Don’t know honey, all I do know is he has been like this since I started coming here when I first joined Team FIVE. I gave him a wide-birth whenever I came to the club, not because I was afraid of him but because I saw something in his eyes I didn’t like.” Rafe stopped and abruptly sat back from me, taking his hands away from my face leaving me missing his touch.

  “Come on Bunny, let’s get you home. I’m sure your pack of wolves will be wanting their dinner by now.” Rafe attempted to hide the seriousness with some humour, but something in his eyes had me worried, so worried I asked the question in hindsight I probably shouldn’t have.

  Getting to his feet, Rafe held out his hand to me, his big one engulfing my tiny hand.

  “What did you see Rafe, what was in his eyes?” Letting him pull me to my feet, we started to walk slowly through the club’s garden. Flowers and vegetables grew abundantly, thanks to both Stella and Kelsey. The other women in the Flock contributed, but the success of the sustainable garden belonged to the wives of the former president and the club’s resident cop.

  Rafe looked down at me, his green eyes, usually so vibrant, turned dark and uninviting.

  “Evil, Peyton, I saw evil.” A shudder ran through me, not because of the way Rafe said the word evil or because he knew that Justin was evil, it scared me because I came face to face with that evil, but somehow I was hoping it was all in my head and that night had just been a one-off occurrence and a madman wasn’t still out there somewhere wanting to finish the job he started.

  Shrugging my shoulders a few times in an attempt to shake off the dark turn our conversation had suddenly taken, I walked along beside Rafe, our hands still clasped.

  “How was your mission?”

  “Eventful, objective achieved,” Rafe answered in his usual way every time I asked him about his deployment.

  “Good. Did you bring me anything back?” I giggled when he groaned quietly, but still, he nodded his head.

  “Yes, but being in the middle of nowhere in Africa, I’m afraid what I brought back for you isn’t all that exciting.” Letting go of my hand, Rafe reached into his pocket and pulled out a green and black rag. Transferring it to his other hand, he took mine back in his and laced our fingers again.

  “Here.” Holding the cloth out to me, he indicated with his chin to my free hand, which I held out.

  Words Rafe, words would be useful sometimes, I muttered silently to myself.

  Unravelling the cloth, Rafe dropped a medium-sized stone onto my palm. The brilliant purple shone and sparkled with the sun’s rays penetrating through the beautiful gem.

  “Oh my god, Rafe! This is gorgeous. What is it? Where did you find it?” I gushed, running my thumb over the sharp edges of the stone. It was rough and smooth at the same time, the colour was purple, but it was also so much more than that. Varying shades of lavender were scattered between the deeper purple, making it the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

  “It’s a raw tanzanite gemstone, and I actually found it on the ground while we were out doing a scout. I couldn’t believe it when I saw it just sitting on top of the sand right there on the rocky trail. Kind of reminded me of your hair colour when I left,” he winked at me, then did something I was still getting used to–he reached out and caught one long curl around his forefinger and stroked it. “Now it’s pink.”

  Swallowing the giant-sized lump in my throat, I nodded, then closed my hand around my present.

  “Yeah, I kinda felt like a change,” I told him in a gravelly voice I didn’t recognise. The Rafe I observed around the compound was completely different from the one I got to be with one on one. With me, he was soft and gentle; he touched me, held my hand, touched my hair, cuddled me while we watched TV. The other side of him was less comforting and more hard-edged, he stood away from people, the only interaction I saw was with his team. The single women who came to the club tried to spark up conversations with him, but Rafe rarely, if ever, engaged in any kind of talk with them. Most of the time, he walked away while they were talking to him, and if I was close and he saw me, he would make his way to me and stand behind me. Was he using me as a shield? Whatever it was, Rafe did not talk to women except me, and sometimes Addy.

  Despite our steadily growing friendship, I didn’t know that much about what made Rafe … well, Rafe. We spend a lot of time together over the last six months, but most of that time was a comfortable silence, him asking me questions, television and yardwork around my house. He never divulged personal information, voluntarily or with prodding. My questions went unanswered the majority of the time, but I wasn’t giving up.

  “Your hair is longer than before I left for Africa. Are you growing it?”

  “Maybe, I haven’t decided. Are you staying in town for a few days before you head back to the base?”

  “No. I have to take off in the morning for a couple of days, and then on the way back, I will drop in and say hi before continuing to Queenscliff. We have a training exercise in conjunction with the Navy and Air Force. Not my idea of fun, but a requirement.” I immediately latched onto the out of town comment, it was one he told me often but not where he went. I ached for him to trust me enough to tell me more about himself, about the man out of the uniform, more than what I had learned on my own.

  There were so many things I wanted to ask him. Where did he go when he left Ballarat? Why doesn’t he talk about his personal life? And why did his eyes say he liked me, yet he refused to make a move?

  It’s not like you are being completely honest with him either. That intrusive and annoying voice in my head taunted me. I had secrets I was keeping close to my chest, secrets that no one, not even Addy knew.

  Hello pot, meet kettle.

  Rounding the corner of the main building, I noticed the party was still in full swing. Members, friends and families cluttered the asphalted quadrangle, kids playing adults while laughing and chatting loudly. It was a beautiful scene, but not mine, not when I noticed Jason and Kelsey sitting at one of the picnic tables, the redhead on her husband’s lap.

  “Meet me at your car, Bunny,” Rafe whispered in my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin, his hand tightening around mine. “Go inside and head out the back door in the kitchen, it leads directly behind the quadrangle and to the car park.” Rafe saw my hesitation, and I knew he could see it written all over my face. Jason and Kelsey were such wonderful people, and I couldn’t help feeling ashamed that I had been avoiding them since the night at the clinic. Their whole world was being turned upside-down and here they were part of a club that was protecting me from their own son.

  “Peyton look at me,” Rafe demanded gently. Giving him my eyes, I looked into the depths of his mesmerising green eyes and immediately found that comfort only Rafe could offer.

  “They understand honey, no one blames you, not you or Addy. Time Bunny, everything takes time.”

  Lightly pressing his lips to my forehead, Rafe gently urged me through the large wooden door to the compound, shutting it firmly behind me.

  Leaning against the door, I sucked in a lungful of air and pressing my fisted hands to my thighs, willing them to stop shaking.

  Only this time, it wasn’t the memory of Justin that was the cause. Nope, this time it was a tall, dark-haired, brooding soldier with a gentle heart behind my rapid pulse and quaking body.

  CHAPTER THREE

  RAFE

  Despite the voice inside my head calling me all kinds of a fool, I had to smile at the car Peyton drove. Her soft pastel pink and blonde hair suggested to an outsider she was a Swift driver or even a cute VW beetle.

  Not my Bunny. No, she owned and proudly drove a Ford XR8 FG ute, in periwinkle purple no less. Looking at Peyton, you wouldn’t think she liked the grunt of a V8, not with her ever changing soft pas
tel hair colours, her dainty and sexy body, and a voice that barely got above a whisper. Peyton was soft and gentle; her preference in cars not so much.

  “Are you still laughing at my choice of vehicle Rafferty Walsh?” Peyton demanded, not able to stop the giggle or her serious tone.

  “Not me, Bunny, I personally love this car. And I am seriously impressed with the way you drive it,” I replied, watching her change down in gears and take the sharp corner.

  “I love driving, always have done. This is my dream car, 6-speed manual, 5.0 litre supercharged BOSS engine. Better than sex, baby,” she winked at me, trying to be all cool and collected, but she couldn’t hide the pulse at the base of her throat or the slight intake of breath when she mentioned the word sex.

  And that why I was calling myself a fool. I wanted sex with Peyton, vertical against a door or horizontal in a bed it didn’t matter, just as long as I was balls deep in her warm heat.

  Of course, that couldn’t happen for so many reasons, the main one being why I had to leave tomorrow after being away from Peyton for weeks and weeks when all I really wanted to do was stay here with her for the next few days before heading down to Queenscliff.

  Just spend time with Peyton.

  Fucking responsibilities!

  The car turned into Peyton’s driveway, my car sitting under the carport where I left it the day before I left for deployment. A funny tingle started in the pit of my belly at the sight of my car parked there. It was a normal thing, even boring, but still, it gave me a sense of home.

  It wasn’t until Peyton turned off the engine and the cab was suddenly silent did I realise how intensely I was staring at my car. Somewhere in the fog of my scattered thoughts did I notice that she had washed and polished the ancient Holden Kingswood wagon I’d bought from the club two years ago.

  “I kinda like it sitting there too, but I couldn’t handle looking at the dirt and dust all over it,” she explained as if she was reading my thoughts.

 

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