His Honey (The Wounded Souls Book 2)

by Leah Sharelle

“So, by the fact that none of you have drawn your weapons and torn out of here to the garden shed, I am deducing you aren’t too concerned about these breeches.” It wasn’t a question. I knew my men, and I knew the next thing said wasn’t going to please me.

  “Pres, do you know where Stella is?” Deck asked me.

  What the fuck? Now that wasn’t what I thought was going to be the next thing said.

  “No. She was in the laundry room before but had to leave.”

  She took off like a scalded cat after she came while she ground herself down hard on my denim-covered cock, sucked my tongue into her mouth, and made me come in my own jeans like a fifteen-year-old boy. But they didn’t need to know that part. I did, and that was all that mattered.

  “Check this out,” Ford said, turning the screen so I could see it. He fiddled with the mouse a bit before an image appeared. Stella. She was coming out of the exit door, and true to my earlier thought, like a scalded cat. Her face looked flushed, and from what I could see, she was talking with herself, her hands going to her lips and staying there. Her fingers rubbed back and forth over her swollen lips—I knew they were swollen because I’d caused it—but you couldn’t see it from the vision. She spent a few minutes walking around like she didn’t have a destination. Ford moved the mouse, and Stella started walking in fast-forward motion. He stopped when she reached the garden shed. Once again, it was in real time, and I watched as Stella looked back at the main building and then slipped into the shed.

  “Okay, so where is she?” I asked the room at large. There had better be someone who could answer why my honey was apparently sleeping in a shed on my compound.

  “Still in there, Booth,” Mannix replied quietly.

  Before I could reply to that, Ford started fiddling again with the keyboard. I stood very still, waiting. Why was Stella in the garden shed? And why did Steel, Deck, Creed, Darth, and Mannix look like they were ready to start crying and then hit somebody? Because that was what I wanted to do at that moment. I reined in my temper when Ford started talking.

  “Pres, when I watched this footage, it got me thinking. I have noticed the silent alarm for the garden shed has been going off a fair bit lately. Not every day, maybe once or twice a week. So I decided to pull up a few security images. You know? To see if anyone is accessing it from the outside. And I found some really disturbing shit.” Ford hit a button, and three screens came up. The quality was good, and so it should be considering the fucking price of the surveillance shit Ford bought, or should I say, I bought.

  “You might want to sit for this, brother,” Creed said solemnly.

  What the fuck was going on with them. I was about to say this when I noticed Stella again on camera. She was walking out from the compound to her car in the car park. She got into her car but only drove it around to the side of the building where I noticed the break in the fence.

  Damn, I had meant to get to that maintenance on the fencing for a full year now. But thoughts of that disappeared as I watched my honey get out of her car and push herself through the break in the fence. Once again, she disappeared into the darkness of the night.

  “Where did she go?” I asked in a hushed whisper. But somehow, I thought I already knew, and my gut clenched at the thought.

  “She sleeps in there, Booth. I have gone through all of the footage and have counted ten times. Every time shows Stella driving her car around to that part of the fence,” Ford informed me. “There are also at least six times that I can find that she sleeps in her car in the car park,” he added, pointing to a screen where I saw Stella getting straight into the back seat of her small, compact car and not get out. My brain must have been failing me because I couldn’t make head or tails of what I was seeing. It was as if I had been struck dumb. Stella had a home. I knew I had seen it, even dropped her off a time or two. Never been in, but I had watched her go inside safely before taking off.

  What in the fuck was she hiding? Who was she hiding from? And why was she hiding all of this from me? I knew Charlotte, Rainn, and Stella was up to something on the evening before Dundee’s funeral. Going with my gut, I looked at Ford.

  “Ford, pull up the cameras to the strip club from yesterday. Go about twenty minutes before we left here to go find Charlotte. Put it up on my monitors.” I sat down in my chair and waited for Ford to do what he did. My screens were bigger than the laptop screen, and I wanted to see things very clearly.

  “Okay, here is Teach. She is arriving at the front.” We watched as the beautiful Charlotte hurried into the front entrance of the strip club, carrying a bag and looking worried and upset. Not the look of a person going to teach someone dance steps. I glanced at Deck and saw him gritting his teeth. His protectiveness over his woman had no limits. I knew he hated that she took off like she did, without detail. I understood that emotion.

  “Go to the back cameras,” I demanded on a hunch.

  The screen switched to the back cameras, and low and behold, Stella’s car was in the back lot.

  “Rewind,” I growled.

  He did, and it didn’t take long for Stella to appear. He pressed play again, and I watched as she pulled into a park and just sat there for a few minutes. You could see her phone was up to her ear. Calling Charlotte? Stella stayed in the car for a few more seconds, and I was about to tell Ford to forward the footage a bit when I saw the car door being flung open. I watched as Stella practically stumbled out of the car, her arms wrapped around her waist. She looked like she was in pain, but what I saw next had my fucking blood boiling.

  Her lip was split open, and there was blood coming from it and her nose. And she was sobbing as she walked stiffly to the back door and went inside.

  “Someone is going to fucking die.” It wasn’t a threat or just something to say in the heat of the moment. It was a promise. Some cunt had put his hands on my honey, and I wanted his fucking blood.

  “Agreed.” Steel snarled. I knew my VP had a soft spot in his heart for my Stella, and I was glad for it, glad for her to have so many people who cared and loved her. But he and I would be talking soon, for he needed to know—she’s mine.

  How could anyone put their hands on such a small woman and draw blood? The thought made me want to vomit. How many times had this happened to her? Oh, shit. It then hit me. Fuck me, the bruises. The yellowing marks on her jaw and the extra bruises that had come up since the accident that took Dundee’s life. They didn’t happen then—she already had some. The doctor even mentioned that accidents worked in strange ways and that some of her injuries made no sense to him, but he brushed them off. Fuck, I brushed them off, just accepted that they had happened when she hit the window and the airbag deployed. I never even questioned the one on her jaw that was on the wrong side for it to have happened by hitting the driver’s window.

  It hit me and made sense all at once. Her need to do overtime and never wanting to take money for it, simply stating it was her fault for not finishing her jobs on time. Her long-sleeved T-shirts, no matter the weather. Was she hiding more bruises? Oh, Jesus Christ, how had I been so blind? My honey was being abused, and I was just seeing it now. Fucking idiot.

  “Pres.” Mannix’s voice brought me back to the moment, and his chin lift towards the screen had me looking back to where Rainn had joined Stella at her car. I watched as Rainn looked at her surroundings before lifting Stella’s top and showing Stella’s black and blue stomach with fresh red marks lining her ribs. Then Rainn helped Stella pull her arm out of her sleeve, and I fucking roared. Picking up the closest thing next to me, which happened to be my handheld GPS, I hurled it across the room. The expensive gadget shattered against the wall.

  “Mother fucking fuck,” I yelled when I saw a large red welt, blistered and bleeding. Some soon-to-be-dead prick had twisted her arm so hard that they had left behind wring marks and blisters. It looked like a bad Chinese burn. This wasn’t some school-aged kid who had done this, either. By the look of the welts, it was a grown person with the strength to twist the shit
out of her soft, delicate skin.

  “Jesus.” Darth breathed out. He, too, looked like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How could anyone hurt Stella?

  “Pres, you want me to go down to the shed and get her?” Creed asked, but I shook my head instantly.

  “No. She can’t deal with this tonight, and I don’t want her to get spooked and take off. I can’t fucking protect her if I don’t have eyes on her.” My first instinct was to go down there and pull her out of that shed and into my arms, but I couldn’t. Not yet.

  “Steel, get two prospects down there. Tell them what is going on. Tell them to be fucking quiet. I don’t want her scared or aware that we are onto her. Stella feels shit deeply, and this will embarrass her. I don’t want her to run. Creed, I need Ford and you to go through this footage. Go back to the first day she started here. I want documentation of as many injuries as you can see. I want that on a memory stick on this desk by morning.” I got up as I gave my orders. Making my way to the door, I looked back at the table.

  “Deck and Mannix, talk to your women before I do. And trust me, you don’t want me to.” I growled at them, ignoring Deck’s clenched jaw and fisted hands. Yeah? Well, fuck you, Deck. Bring it on, brother, because with the mood I am in right now, I could take all you bastards on and go back for seconds.

  “Call Ingrid,” I barked as I left the room.

  “Get fucked,” Creed yelled back at me.

  Fine, I would call her my fucking self.

  ***

  There was a soft knock at my door twenty minutes after I left the guys in the war room. I felt like a fucking dick for doing it, but they couldn’t know the real reason why I kept calling Ingrid to my room some nights. I couldn’t handle the reason myself, so how was I to expect them to understand it if I fucking couldn’t? All I knew was I needed some fucking sleep without the aid of drinking myself into a stupor. I was getting far too old for that shit. And I needed my wits about me.

  Stella needed me to have my wits about me.

  “Come in,” I called out quietly. The door opened, and Ingrid gave me a knowing smile. Her arms were full of everything she needed to get her through the night.

  “Hey, boss,” Ingrid greeted as she set her textbooks down on the desk that she used when she studied in here.

  “Thanks for coming, Ingrid.”

  She waved her hand at me like she didn’t need thanks. This was a two-way street for both of us. She got to study for her law degree in peace away from the madness of her family of thirteen siblings, and I got to sleep most of the night without too many nightmares. Well, those I could cope with most of the time. I mean, yeah, they woke me in cold sweats most of the time, and they sucked shit, but it was the goddamn crying I did in my sleep that pissed me the fuck off.

  I felt like half a man when it happened. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it. I was a lieutenant in the commandos, for Christ’s sake. I’d led men into battle, strategized with bloody colonels. Three tours in Afghanistan and one hellish deployment to Somalia. You would think I could manage to sleep on my own without a fucking light on.

  I gave Ingrid a chin lift and then started for my room.

  “Booth?” I stopped at my name, but I didn’t turn around.

  “You know this is hurting her, right? She would understand if you just talked to her.”

  I nodded my head once, and then left Ingrid in the room she used when she stayed here.

  This wasn’t the first time Ingrid had told me this, and I knew she was right. Stella was the most kind-hearted person I knew, except for maybe Teach and Mia.

  She would understand, but I couldn’t tell her, not yet. If I told her and saw pity in her eyes, that would piss me off. I didn’t want pity. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Well, yeah, I knew one thing I wanted.

  I wanted Stella and more of her kisses.

  But for now, I would have to settle for some sleep.

  12

  STELLA

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! I couldn’t believe I woke up late. Of all the mornings to sleep in, I chose this one. I made my way across the vast grassed area that was still damp from the morning dew. Damn it, I cursed myself. How was I going to get away with this? Surely, by now, half the guys would be up and ready to start the day.

  I knew for a fact little Miss Shiloh would be up and at ’em. Her birthday was today. Gracious, that precious girl was four today. I had her present hiding in one of the top cupboards in the laundry room. I got it weeks ago and was proud of myself for stumbling across a T-shirt that said, ‘My dad is a gun-toting alpha. What’s your dad’s superpower?’ Even Mia was jealous she hadn’t thought of it—she was the queen of slogan tees. I also got Shiloh a few pink accessories for her room and her car seat.

  Her cake from Darth was finished. It had taken some research, but I’d finally managed to get a picture reference for a children’s cake in the shape of a pink revolver.

  At first, he had wanted a sniper rifle, but we talked and decided with everything that was going on with Rogue, it was best to play it safe and go with a cake in the shape of Shiloh’s replica gun. God, these men. Whatever happened to cakes in the shape of kittens and dolls?

  I got to the back door and looked around for signs of anyone. I put my hand on the handle, but before I could turn it, the door swung open, and I was confronted with a very pissed off Creed.

  And I do mean pissed off.

  His eyes travelled over my face, and his jaw clenched. Creed very rarely smiled so I couldn’t tell you what it looked like. But he did growl, grunt, scowl, stare, snarl, and all of those sorts of things a lot. So when I said he looked pissed off, I knew what I was talking about.

  “Good morning, blondie. Glad you could join us. Follow me, please.” He wasn’t asking me. The ‘please’ at the end was just manners rammed into him by his mother. I was almost positive he didn’t mean it.

  Dropping my head in resignation, I followed Creed down the long service hallway, certain he was leading me to the unemployment line. Bugger it. Being bone-tired and sleeping like the dead had really come back to bite me on my slightly too-big-in-my-jeans arse.

  My dread turned into curiosity when he led me through the main room and past the main door instead of leading me out of it. He was taking me towards the— Holy shit, no way. Ten steps later, I saw where we were going. The war room. Surely not! No one was allowed in there unless they held a patch. Shiloh was the one female who had ever been in there before.

  Creed stood by the door and held it open for me, gesturing with his other hand for me to go in. Oh, shit, this was not a good ‘Welcome to the war room for the first time, Stella Hogan’ kind of a visit.

  I was in trouble. With a capital T.

  When I went in, the first person I saw was Charlotte, and she was standing next to Deck. His arms wrapped around her tightly, his hands rested on her flat belly—resting on their unborn child. Deck’s protective gesture didn’t go unnoticed by me. If there was one word to describe Deck Johnston, it would be protective.

  Charlotte had tears in her eyes, and she was staring wide-eyed at my— Oh, shit! My lip and nose. Oh, God, the make-up would have all rubbed off in my sleep. No wonder Creed was scowling and clenching his jaw. My secret was completely out of the bag. All my hard work and I ruined everything with one ill-timed sleep-in. Rats.

  “Oh, Stella, sweetie. I am so sorry,” she whispered brokenly. I could see she felt awful about this, but there was no need. Honestly, I didn’t blame her. I should never have asked her to keep things from Deck in the first place. Asking her to keep things from the club and Deck was unfair.

  “Shush. It’s okay, Charlotte. I should never have asked you to keep this a secret in the first place,” I reassured her, not wanting any bad blood between the lady who had become my best friend and me.

  “No, you should not have. You should have come to me.” The deep, booming voice came from the other side of the room.

  I closed my eyes because I didn�
�t want to see the face the voice belonged to… well, actually, that was a lie. I loved that face and would have liked very much to suck face with him again and again, but I didn’t think I should voice that desire right at that moment.

  “Look at me, Stella.”

  Nope, I don’t think so. I am quite happy standing here and looking at my damp shoes, thank you very much.

  “Honey, look at me.” The endearment that turned my insides to mush had me raising my eyes to the man who held my heart, and what I saw took my breath away.

  Vincent Booth, President of the Wounded Souls MC and the strongest man I knew, was standing there with tears in his eyes.

  “Booth.” The whisper left my lips without me even realising I’d said it. I knew without looking in a mirror that my face was a mess. It normally was the first few days after a beating, and Booth’s beautiful grey eyes were looking their fill. I didn’t recognise every one of the emotions that passed over his handsome face, but one that I did was guilt. I couldn’t allow that. I would not let this beautiful man take on one ounce of blame for my weakness when it came to my stepfamily.

  Quickly, I moved past Charlotte and reached out to give her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze as I went. She also would not be taking on any guilt because of me. Her friendship meant more to me than she could possibly know. Her loyalty was without question.

  Reaching Booth, I rose to my tiptoes and placed my hands on either side of his face. His stubbled cheeks felt wonderful. Just being able to touch him took away any pain from my injuries.

  “Don’t. Don’t you dare. It’s my fault, not Charlotte’s, not Rainn’s, and not yours. I chose to say nothing, hiding and keeping secrets. Please, don’t take any of this and make it yours. Please, handsome,” I begged as I stared into his eyes, his burden about Rogue far too big for me to add to it.

  “Can we have a minute alone, please?” Booth asked the others in the room, his eyes never leaving mine. I heard the noise of people leaving, but I didn’t bother to look. My eyes were glued to Booth’s eyes.