HIS SWEETNESS

by Leah Sharelle

  “I’m done with you, you fucking psycho arsehole. Show yourself like a fucking man, you pathetic excuse for a soldier,” Booth roared into the phone.

  “I don’t know. I kind of like the name Rogue. What do you think?”

  Oh, Jesus, he was listening to us in our own compound, too. How? How could one person be smarter than all of us?

  Booth was enraged. “You will be found. And we will deal with you in our own way. The law be damned, arsehole. We are going to kill you. You think you are in control? When I have your pathetic life in my hands, and I am squeezing the life out of you, then we will see who is in control. But let me tell you this one thing, you fucked-up piece of shit. You go after one more person we care about, and there won’t be a single place you can hide from the fucking hell I will bring down on you, motherfucker.” The menace in Booth’s voice was chilling. He meant that. And he was capable of that and so much more.

  Rogue let out a nervous laugh. “See you in hell, boys.”

  Then the line went dead.

  What the fuck was going to happen next?

  Epilogue

  DECK

  It had been five days since Charlie’s car and my bike were blown up at the clinic car park. Five days of lockdown for the club and amped-up protection for the women. But as I watched my woman walking beside Shiloh, who was in her pink jeep showing her mum how she skidded a car, I smiled so big.

  It had been five days of long talks, me telling Charlie every single fear I had of her giving birth, and the guilt I felt over Rogue going after Shiloh and her being a target for something that had nothing to do with her.

  Five days of her reassuring me she would never want to be anywhere other than with Shiloh and me. And in eight months or so, our son. She laughed when I referred to her stomach as our boy. She said I was silly and there was no way to know that yet. But I saw her eyes soften and get that faraway look. She liked the idea of a boy. Another me. A protector for his sister.

  I had also had five days of fantastic sex. So much sex, I thought as I reached down and rearranged my dick in my jeans. I didn’t want to say he hurt, and I would never admit it to my woman or deny her, but he was a little sore. A pregnant Charlie was definitely a horny Charlie. I called that one right. And with her back being out of bounds as far as lying on it went, well, she had been riding the fuck out of me. But damn, I couldn’t say no to my beautiful ballet dancer. Her love had brightened my life like I’d never thought would happen. Shiloh had always made me happy, and being her daddy gave me so much purpose. A worn-out old soldier with more than his fair share of issues was going to become a husband and a father again and had a love of a special and fucking beautiful woman. Yeah, I was truly blessed.

  From my seat in the compound’s backyard, I could see Booth. His mood since the girls’ car accident had changed dramatically. He was on edge all the time, snapping at people to be vigilant, out of control but still in control. At least, on the outside.

  He was always watching. I looked to where his eyes were trained, and I smirked when I saw what he was watching or should I say who.

  The pretty blonde was over by the washing line hanging out the club’s linens.

  He was always watching.

  Watching Stella.

  Getting up, I made my way over to my fiancée and daughter.

  “Daddy, look. Watch me burning effing rubber,” Shiloh called out as she did her best to get the plastic wheels to do a burnout.

  Fucking Darth.

  She had absolutely no chance, but I wasn’t telling her that. My girl was determined to do anything she wanted, and I would always encourage her to do exactly that.

  Reaching out to my woman, I wrapped her in my arms. Our fronts pressed close together, our arms were tight around one another—being one, being us. Even with the danger lurking in the background and the threats looming over our heads, we took the time to be who we were together. A dancer who had finally found the love and the family she had always wanted, and a soldier who had gotten his second chance and in the process, had found the love of his life.

  Charlie pressed her lips to mine in a slow and gentle kiss that burned deep in our blood.

  In our souls.

  “I love you, honey.” Her soft declaration always hit its mark. My heart beat for this woman and for the raven-haired beauty who was now chasing her dogs around in a pink jeep.

  Smiling, I let out a deep sigh. Finally, I was content.

  “I love you, too, my sweetness.”

  Enough said.

  For now.

  Acknowledgments

  Wow, I don’t know where to start. I am utterly amazed, surprised, and thrilled that I have gotten to this point. The book is written, and I am thanking people. Who knew?

  This has been years in the making. Literally. Under my bed, in a dusty leather folder, there are seven handwritten manuscripts. I started them when I was a teenager in love with the idea of being in love. A teenager who thought she could be a writer one day. But my first love always got in the way. Reading. Damn, I love to read. Call it a passion, an obsession, or, as some people who know me call it, a major problem. I don’t. I call it my escape. My lifeline. What started when I was thirteen with a Diana Palmer novel was then followed by years of Silhouette Desire novels. Only to then discover some of the best authors who changed my whole world.

  Lila Rose, a wonderful author and an equally wonderful person who I am proud to call a friend. Her help and encouragement through this process have been overwhelming. Lila, there are no words to describe how much I admire you. I love you hard, woman.

  Colleen Snibson, my editor. What can I say, lady? You saved me. Without you and Lila, I don’t even want to think about that. Plus, who else would talk monkey sex with me? Other than the lovely Rogena Mitchell-Jones—editor, proofreader, and formatter extraordinaire.

  LeAnn Ashers is truly a lovely lady who gives her readers the time of day.

  The amazing AJ Downey.

  Queenie, you are perfect, a one-day woman and the land of Nope will see you on her soil.

  There are so many more wonderful authors I want to name, but I am scared I will leave someone out. But the likes of Meghan March. You are a lovely person, Meghan, and meeting you at FYM was the highlight of my life, and thank you for the pep talk.

  Jessie Lane, Jordan Marie, Harper Sloan, Nina Levine, Kaylee Ryan, Chelle Bliss, Aurora Rose Reynolds, Lani Lynn Vale, Sarah O’Rourke (her book Man of Honor is a true masterpiece of how to write that really hard book with a really difficult subject matter), Kristen Proby, Jenika Snow, Addison Jane, S. Nelson, Lilly Atlas, Carian Cole, Chelsea Camaron, River Savage, KE Obsorn, Colbie Kay, Tillie Cole, Ryan Michele, KL Donn, Jodi Ellen Malpas—the creator of my all-time favourite book boyfriend Jesse Ward. The list can go on and on, and I still won’t have enough room for them all. I remember every single one of the journeys you ladies and others have taken me on over the years.

  Thank you to Christy at Chic Professional Photography for a brilliant cover. What started out as lunch orders for your kids turned into discovering the best photographer there is. You are truly a great friend, and one day, you never know, I may have that drink.

  To Daniel, thank you so much for saying yes. You made a wonderful Deck, and you were a real trooper to do this at the last minute. Thank you.

  To my daughter Katrina for joining Daniel on the cover as Charlie. Baby girl, you are the best daughter any mum could ask for. And yes, sweetheart, I feel the same way about your sisters.

  Speaking of Meagan and Tamara, thank you, girls, for your constant encouragement even though Mummy’s porn is the last thing you will ever read, and I really don’t think you should. I know you are proud of me. Yes, Tamara, I know you think at eighteen you are too old to call me ‘Mummy,’ but whatever, Trevor.

  To my friend Julie Rodgers. Thanks, Jules, I hope I didn’t traumatise you too much.

  To my other friend Julie Pfeiffer aka Vegas. Thank you, lady, for lending me your name and fo
r your friendship. You encourage me and sometimes have to pull my head out of my arse when I have those ‘am I okay’ moments.

  And thank you to Bob Seger for writing ‘Living Inside My Heart’—my go-to song for inspiration for this book.

  And thank you to Charlie and Deck. You gave me the best few months of my life.

  Now let’s see what Booth and Stella can do!

  About the Author

  Leah Sharelle loves the idea of being in love. Since her early teens, when she first discovered Silhouette Desire novels, her life has been all about reading. She would find herself rewriting scenes if she wasn’t happy with them and then would hide them under her bed. That led her to writing love stories of her own. They all ended up under her bed and are still there—where she says they will stay.

  Leah is a mum of three beautiful girls, living in Australian, and she has what most say is a weird sense of humour. She spends her free time doing movies, Sons of anarchy, and Friends marathons. And reading. She doesn’t do angst. In fact, it drives her crazy. She loves Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain. There’s that weird humour.