————
“Brother.”
Smiling, I gestured for Booth, my best friend and our club’s president, to sit and join me. The big fucker was apparently good-looking according to the club girls who hung out at the compound for party nights such as tonight. To me, he was my best friend, my ex-commanding officer, and the man I’d helped form the Wounded Souls MC. A home for our commando special forces team. A team of ten men I could never be without, each one of us wounded in some way, the horrors of war our common bond. Another being our tight friendships.
“Booth, how’s it hanging?” I asked as I accepted the bottle from him that he’d brought over for me. Putting it to my lips, I took a pull of the cold amber liquid.
“A little to the left, Deck, and in need of some emptying,” he joked back.
“Well, there are plenty to choose from, Pres. Some of these chicks are hot and not too bad at all. There are a few I have never seen before.”
I wasn’t wrong. The party at the compound was in full swing with music blaring from the state-of-the-art surround sound system, drinks and food flowing freely, and women dancing and shaking what their mothers had given them, trying hard to attract the attention of a brother. Any brother.
Booth nodded his head in agreement as his eyes roamed the large main room we held parties in. The compound used to be a youth detention centre for boys. On the outside, there were ten-foot-high concrete walls, and inside, it was mostly open-plan living spaces. A ten-metre-long bar with stools took up a good portion of the main room. Dotted around the room were all different types of comfortable chairs, couches, and coffee tables. Behind the sitting area was a dance floor—nothing spectacular just a dimly lit area where a brother could take a woman to have an intimate dance or even a fast one. I didn’t dance, so it didn’t worry me either way. Then, over nearer to the kitchen area was a big old dining table able to seat twenty people. It was old and scarred just like the men who sat down at it to eat.
“Yeah, brother, they are, but to tell the truth, Deck, I’m plain not interested.”
Something in his voice had my radar perked. “What’s up, Pres?”
If there was one thing I knew about Lieutenant Vincent Booth, he didn’t like to share his personal feelings very often, so when he did, he needed advice.
When he cast his glance towards the kitchen door, I noticed his narrowed glare.
“Just want something different, Sarge. Nothing to worry about.”
I watched as my friend sculled the remainder of his beer and shook off his melancholy mood. A skill all ten of us were good at. Feelings could sometimes hurt you, but sometimes, they were fucking awesome. Thoughts of the lovely Charlie invaded my mind.
“So”—he nodded towards the ever-present baby monitor sitting on the coffee table—“Little Miss Squirt was excited about a present from Darth tonight. Know what it was?”
“No, she wouldn’t show me. Apparently, it’s a secret until tomorrow,” I said, looking at the monitor, the small screen showing us my baby girl sound asleep in her bed in her room where someone threw up pink everywhere. And I did mean everywhere! Different shades of the fucking colour covered everything. A full-blown castle cubby house was even painted pink and then covered in pink glitter. Shiloh’s bed was four feet off the floor and was a massive thing with curtains and shit floating around it just like Cinderella’s bed. Shaking my head, I looked at the screen one last time to make sure Shiloh was indeed asleep when my eyes stopped on the only non-pink item in her room.
“What in the fuck?” I squinted, looking harder because there was no way I was seeing what I was seeing.
Booth leaned in to check out what I was looking at. His eyes grew wide for a second then he let out a bellow of a laugh, which I quickly joined him.
“Fucking Darth,” we both said at the same time.
Suddenly, my attention was on a little blonde piece giving me a come-hither look. Picking up the monitor, I clipped it to my belt as I stood up.
“’Scuse me, Booth. I believe I’m on a mission.”
It was time to get laid. It might not have been the sweet Charlie, but a man couldn’t have all the luck.
————
The next morning, I found myself in the kitchen later than usual. Today, I wanted to take Shiloh to day care. Normally, it would be Darth taking her, and then he either met me at the work site or would go to the gun shop and range with Booth. But not today. Today, I wanted to see if my reaction to the sweet Charlie was real and something I wanted to pursue, or if it was just a fluke. Last night hadn’t gone quite the way I wanted. The cute blonde didn’t have much in the way of conversation skills and was really only interested in one thing. Now, normally, that would be fucking A-OK with me, but something was off with me since laying eyes on Shiloh’s dance teacher.
Pushing my hands over my closely buzzed head, I blew out a frustrated breath. I’d really, really wanted to get laid last night. My blue ball problem was turning purple pretty goddamned quick.
Shaking any more thoughts of my dick and lack of using it out of my head, I turned to the sound of my giggling daughter making her way into the kitchen, with Darth not far behind her making stupid as fuck growling sounds. To anyone else not privy to life in the compound, seeing a six-foot-six bloke—who was built like a brick shithouse and had a man bun and long scar running down one side of his face, thanks to a deranged ex-comrade—chasing after a tiny little girl—whom, I might add, was giggling her little head off with the cutest sounding giggle ever—would seem strange. But surprisingly, it wasn’t.
But… what I did find a little, shall we say, disturbing, was my beautiful Shiloh, who was dressed in her usual pink leotard, tutu, and black shitkickers, and had her hair up in her ‘ballerina bun,’ and now had a new addition to her outfit—a black leather gun belt and a pink handled imitation pistol.
Placing the bowl of cereal on the table, I reached down and lifted the squirt up into her highchair. Although Shiloh was three and was old enough to sit on a booster chair, we discovered the hard way that Shiloh wasn’t one to sit still while eating. Much like her penchant for releasing herself from her car seat, she would do the same at the table. After two trips to the ER for stitches in her forehead, the booster seat had been taken out back and used for target practice. Enough said.
“Wanna explain, brother?” I asked as I watched him pour a sippy cup of juice. Another lesson we had learnt early on. Don’t give Shiloh a normal cup!
Raising his brow, I was given a ‘what the fuck you talking about’ look. I didn’t bother answering. I just gave a brow lift of my own. After a few minutes of silent staring and Shiloh eating her cereal, I gave up.
“Whatever, but I swear to Christ, Darth, this time, you’re taking the fucking phone call from the day care administrator,” I warned, and I was deadly serious. The last time the school called me in, I was faced with my adorable three-year-old sitting in the office waiting for me with a face full of camouflage face paint.
“Come on, baby girl. Daddy is taking you today,” I announced, ignoring the questioning look from the big man.
“But, Daddy, Darf needs to comes, too.”
Hanging my head, I prayed for patience. Why can’t my girl just accept everything I say without question? A totally reasonable question, right?
“But, baby, Daddy is taking you today.” I tried again because I didn’t want the big fucker to lay eyes on my sweetness. For some fucking reason, the ladies found the ugly brute irresistible. Turning to my daughter, I was faced with blue eyes filling with tears. Fuck me. So that was how I ended up sitting next to Darth in my truck with my daughter whistling along to ‘Patience’ by Guns N’ Roses. Enough said.
3
CHARLOTTE
This was so stupid. I mean how old was I?
I wasn’t the girl who stared out the window waiting for some guy to arrive just so I could catch a glimpse of him, hoping to talk to him, maybe accidentally reach out and touch his perfectly formed muscul
ar arms—arms that would feel amazing holding me as he—
Seriously, Charlotte, grow up, I admonished myself as I was certain lusting after the fathers of students was frowned upon. Even if the said father was the most amazing specimen of male hotness I’d ever imagined—and I had a good imagination. His eyes had held me captive the minute I’d looked into them. The most amazing blue I’d ever seen. He was tall, much taller than I was, and for a woman, I wasn’t short. My five-foot-nine height had been my downfall in the dance world. No male dancer wanted to be my pas de deux partner, so teaching became my next love. And I loved to teach my little students all about moving and dance. Their enthusiasm was something that kept me going. It wasn’t the grand stage or classic Swan Lake, but it was now my world, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. And not having to worry about my weight constantly was pure joy, too. My thoughts strayed to the delicious custard cream doughnut I had devoured only that morning for breakfast. Suck on that, carrot sticks. I giggled to myself.
Continuing to stare out the window, the loud rumbling of a V8 engine interrupted my dreams of sweet baked goods. This engine belonged to the huge black utility truck owned by the ridiculously handsome Deck Johnston. My heart stuttered as I watched his powerful body climb down from the massive truck before strutting his way around to the back passenger door. And yes, I said strut because that was the only way to describe the man’s confidence. It was beautiful to watch him with his powerful and thick thighs encased in tight denim. His tight, black T-shirt clung to every plane of chiselled muscle. His ensemble was finished off with a large pair of black chunky lace-up boots—not so different from his totally cute and adorable daughter’s favourite choice of footwear. Once, when I’d questioned Shiloh on her shoes, she looked at me as if I were a moron.
“Miss Char, dese are my shitkickwers,” she had informed me, schooling me right then.
From that moment, the little beauty had become my favourite. I couldn’t help it. I adored the child and loved watching her dance freely in class, stomping around in her tutu and unusual but unique footwear, with her face occasionally wearing camouflage war paint. Before I could get lost in that particularly strange memory, I heard my name cried out, snagging my attention.
“Miss Char, Miss Char, check it out.”
I looked towards the cute voice with an instant smile that was quickly replaced with an ‘Oh, dear Lord’ surprised look. Getting down from her father’s arms was Shiloh, who was a vision in pink ballet gear, and of course, her size two cuter-than-cute chunky black boots, but today, she also sported a black leather shoulder holster that seemed to be holding a handgun. Surely not real, right?
“Miss Shiloh, aren’t you dressed, um…” I looked to Deck for silent guidance. Lessons learnt from the past had taught me Shiloh had a slight temper, and, let’s say, an interesting vocabulary when it came to questioning her about her attire and the removal of any of it.
Deck’s deep laugh vibrated into parts of my body I hadn’t thought about for a very long while.
“Don’t worry, Sweetness. It ain’t loaded,” he joked as he expertly guided the toddling child across the pebbled walkway. It was only then I noticed the taller man walking behind Deck. His scarred face would scare anyone, but as he was the usually appointed drop-off for Shiloh, I got to know he was a softy for the raven-haired girl. Though I hadn’t engaged in too much chatter with him during drop-off time, I had watched with admiration as he treated Shiloh with tenderness and totally worshipped her.
“Hello,” I said to both men, but my eyes were on Deck. His handsome face was even more striking with his cocky grin. Obviously, he was aware of my stare and interest in him. Good. My ability to play games with the opposite sex was virtually non-existent.
A pull on my skirt took my attention from Deck, and I looked down.
“Miss Char, this is my bodyguard Darth,” Shiloh introduced the large man.
My eyes instantly flew up to the men. Their nonchalant expressions told me they found this to be normal.
“Bodyguard?”
Deck gave a shoulder shrug like it was all the same to him.
“Darth has been her sitter since she was a day old. Other than me, he was the only one who could settle her as an infant. She had a hard time with colic, so Darth’s ability not to need as much sleep as most came in handy. Since then…” Another shoulder lift told me the rest of the story was obvious.
Looking over to Darth, I received the same shoulder lift, only he added a weird chin lift, too. Something I had seen from Shiloh many times. Oh, this is interesting, I thought to myself. And fun. They seemed to have such different lives than mine. Things they obviously found normal, I found intriguing. I mean, who dresses a three-year-old in pink tutus and shoulder holsters?
“Um, okay then. Well, Shiloh, are you ready to go in? I can sign her in if you like, Deck,” I asked softly. Biting my bottom lip, my boldness in using his first name, yet again, surprised me
Deck’s eyes grew darker as he watched my mouth. Why, I didn’t know, but I liked it.
“Thank you, Sweetness. I am a bit late getting started this morning.” Dropping to his knees, I watched in fascination as father and daughter kissed each other’s foreheads—one slobbery and one not so much—and then fist bumped.
“Later, Squirt. Love ya bunches.”
The little girl giggled before replying in kind, “Later, Daddy. Love you more.”
A similar show happened with the large Darth, except he whispered in her ear, which caused another giggle from Shiloh.
“Back at ya, Darf.”
“Hey, Sweetness?”
As I looked away from Shiloh and Darth, my eyes immediately found the steely gaze of the handsome father.
“There ain’t no need to be looking at Darth.”
Huh? What?
“I was?” I asked, suddenly very confused about the whole conversation.
Coming closer to me, Deck lowered his head slightly so we were eye to eye. I was suddenly so happy to have the height of a basketball player.
“Yes, you were, and it’s not on. You belong to me, sweet Charlie.” His matter-of-fact statement would have made me laugh except for the fact his warm breath was tickling my face, his deep blue eyes serious as can be, and that damned smirk.
“Pardon?” I wasn’t sure, but I was pretty certain he’d told me I belonged to him. The thought was preposterous. Wasn’t it? I mean, you can’t own another human being. And why did my stomach feel like it had a million butterflies gallivanting about in there?
“You can’t, I mean, you’re not allowed to say that,” I spluttered. Obviously, years of private school education went straight out the window. This man had rendered me moronic more times than I cared to count. And this was only the second conversation I’d had with him.
Smiling widely, Deck stood up straight and gave me his trademark chin lift.
“Just did, Sweetness. See ya later. We can talk then, yeah?”
“Oh, okay,” my stupid brain agreed. And I stood there! Like an idiot, I stood there as I watched the most fascinating, devilishly handsome, arrogant, alpha Neanderthal walk back to his truck and take off.
“Come on, Miss Char. We gots to go. Lots to do today,” Shiloh demanded, bringing me back to the moment where, hopefully, my brain was in working condition.
“Let’s go dance, shall we.” It wasn’t a question. I needed to go. But a small part of me so wanted to be owned by that man.
4
DECK
I drove the car towards the gun shop, using all of my military training not to kill the big fucker sitting beside me. His laughter was really starting to piss me off. I mean, really? He hadn’t stopped since the day care. My knuckles were turning white from the death grip I had on the steering wheel.
“What the fuck you wanna say, brother?”
Darth spluttered for a few more moments as he attempted to get himself under control.
“You belong to me? Seriously, brother, that’s how you come at a woman you
’ve met twice?” he asked, incredulity in his deep voice.
Yeah, it was a bit over the top, kind of claiming the beautiful dancer, but fuck, it pissed me off that she watched Darth with so much interest. Okay, so now I’m thinking she was just intrigued by how such a big man could be so gentle with a little child. But it didn’t stop the silly irrational jealousy I’d felt. It gripped me like nothing ever had. Such a strange reaction, but I kind of liked it. The pretty blonde had a way about her, and my kid obviously adored her. And there was no better endorsement in my book. So, I was going to explore this…feeling.
“She’s good with Shiloh, and she is fucking hot. And…”
“And?” Darth asked, his grin wide like he knew what I was about to say. “And?” he prompted again.
I was reluctant to voice the next bit of information, but I wanted Darth to back off, not just with the teasing but I also didn’t want him sniffing around Charlie.
“I like her,” I told him quietly. “Enough said,” I declared softly. All talk of Charlie was finished.
“Enough said, brother.” His quiet response was barely audible.
After dropping Darth at the shop, I made my way to the construction site.
The day before, we had supply problems one after another. Today, I wanted smooth, no issues, just lots of work and progress. I wanted this job done and finished. Shiloh’s fourth birthday wasn’t far away, and I wanted to take her away to my parents’ farm. Her birthday was always a bittersweet occasion. Celebrating her birth and the death of her mother on the same day was a real roller-coaster ride of emotions, not only for me but also for my brother—my actual blood brother, the dick cop.
Zoe and I had fooled around on a regular basis, but I had always known she was also fooling around with Jason. It hadn’t bothered me one bit when I found out. She had been completely honest with me. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been so forthcoming with my brother.
HIS SWEETNESS (WOUNDED SOULS Book 1) Page 2
