Her Prince (The Wounded Souls Series Book 6)

by Leah Sharelle

  “Zander, I need you at the gun shop and range. I have to stay here, but Shay is there with only a prospect. Not sure if Jake is capable of handling an extreme situation like a confrontation with an outlaw biker or two.”

  Jake was the newest guy prospecting for the Souls and was one of Dane’s school friends. He was keen and a hard worker, and we had him at the gun range most of the time, but Dad borrowed him for construction jobs a few times a week. Booth and I talked about just making him an employee of the club because we didn’t want to lose him as a worker, but a member? Only time would tell. We promised him a year, and he had six more months to see if the club life was for him.

  “Copy that, Pres. I’ll head that way now, just gotta go change my clothes first,” Zander replied. I hadn’t even noticed he was still in his WSFS uniform, then he got up from his seat and made his way over to where I was still seated and looked to be staying that way. Booth obviously wanted me in on the phone call to the Hawks—that, and I couldn’t freaking move even if I wanted to.

  Zander placed his large hand at the back of my neck and gently tipped my head back so I could see his handsome face, which was inches away from mine, his breath fanning my face.

  “Love you, baby,” he whispered. As his lips closed in, and he kissed me softly, the people in the room, the trouble at our door, and the pain in my hip suddenly all washed away. It was just Zander and me being us, not hiding, not lying, and it was the best feeling in the world.

  “Love you more,” I replied, and as I smiled against his mouth, I felt his lips curl up in a smile of his own.

  “Not possible, Spunky. Be careful. See you at home later?”

  “As soon as we finish with the call, I will head straight there, so I will most likely beat you. Anything special you want for dinner?”

  Zander and I took turns cooking when we were home together, and tonight, unfortunately, it was my turn. My body moaned at the thought of being on my feet when all it wanted was the bathtub and bubbles.

  “How about we get takeaway? Eat pizza naked in bed.”

  “I like that plan,”

  “Me too.”

  He dropped one last kiss on the corner of my mouth, both of us ignoring the growling and panting that came from my father. This was something he had to get used to, sooner rather than later. My prince was mine. Everyone in the club knew now, and I had discovered that I was definitely a ‘public display of affection’ kind of a girl.

  ***

  Booth set the phone to speaker and punched in the numbers from the piece of paper Ford slipped him before he left to go back to WS Flight School and Air Services. Neither of us spoke as we waited for someone on the other end to pick up.

  “Talk,” a deep baritone voice said, its tone clipped.

  I raised my eyebrows at Booth, and his answering smirk told me he thought the greeting was amusing as well.

  “Is this Talon?”

  “You rang my number. Guessing you already know who I am,” came the no-nonsense response.

  “My name is Vincent Booth. I go by Booth, and I am the president of the Wounded Souls MC in Ballarat.”

  “Heard of you fellas. Former commandos operating a legit MC, no guns, no drugs, no whores.”

  “Yeah, that’s us. Listen, I was wondering if you knew of a club called the Devil’s Advocates?” Booth asked, getting straight to the point.

  Talon made a noise like a grunt, and it wasn’t the typical biker grunt that meant he was happy.

  “Dirty club that one. Got a few chapters spread around the country. Nothing in our state far as I know.”

  “Well, there is now. Got a surprise visit from them today at one of our businesses, and two members took it upon themselves to voice their disgust at my choice of VP.” Booth’s jaw ticked as he said that. Under the leather and the layers that was Booth, president of the Wounded Souls, he was my uncle Vinnie, and no one got away with hurting his goddaughter.

  “Fuck. This is not fucking good, mate. Those fuckers are fucking bad news.” Talon, it seemed, liked to swear, and I was about to laugh when a soft female voice came through the line.

  “Talon Marcus, are you sure you need to swear so much? I thought we talked about this, honey,” the female voice scolded.

  I stifled a giggle. It was like listening to my mum telling off me, my brother, and father. Booth grunted a laugh, not that he could talk. One of Gabriel’s first words was a curse word, blamed on either Booth or me, I wasn’t saying which.

  “Kitten, come ’ere.” Talon must have put his hand over the receiver because all I heard was a lot of muffled noises and then what I thought was a low feminine moan. I felt my cheeks blush and turned my head to the side as if looking at the phone made me some kind of voyeur or something.

  “Right, then, so why would they have a problem with your VP?”

  “Because I am a woman,” I said, speaking up for the first time. “Shiloh Johnston. My dad is the club’s SAA.”

  There was a surprised silence on the other end. I guessed Talon didn’t know as much as he thought about us.

  “Very cool. Gotta say I’m impressed with your lateral ways of doing things. Not sure if I could handle my old lady wearing a patch.”

  “She isn’t my old lady. Shiloh is my road captain’s woman, and we don’t call our wives old ladies, not that we think it’s wrong, but we decided to do a few things differently to cut us apart from the traditional ways of other clubs,” Booth explained.

  “Fair ’nough. To each their own.”

  “My fiancé, Zander, knows one of your members, a guy named Vicious. We were wondering if he or anyone else in your club could help us out with gathering intel on the Devil’s Advocates. Not asking you to get involved. Just thought you would know more about the underbelly of the outlaw MCs,” I asked, silently hoping I had asked the question without insulting him or pissing him off.

  “Saxon, yeah, he is with the Caroline Springs chapter. Let me give Dodge a call, who is the president there. I will talk with him and a few of my guys here, do some poking around. See what we can find out for ya. You are situated in Ballarat East, yeah? Down by the old mill, used to be a home for boys back in the day?”

  Booth let out a relieved breath. This must have been so hard for him to face. After the stories I heard growing up and the things I still remembered, this was not something he needed right now, not with him thinking of stepping down.

  “Yeah, that’s us. We are far enough off the beaten track that we don’t get many passers-by but enough to be close to our businesses.”

  “Custom bike shop is one of them. Had a mate get some paint work done on his tank. Said a chick did a fucking amazing job.”

  I grinned like a loon, pride swelling in my chest. “That was me. I work for the bike shop, painting and mechanical.”

  “I’m impressed. Might come and take a look around. We do our own mechanical work, but the painting side of things interests me.”

  “Copy that. Thanks, Talon. I appreciate your time. I have no intention of dragging you into any shit. This is our beef, and we will take care of it. I promise no blowback will come on the Hawks MC,” Booth told him.

  “Understood, brother, and appreciate that. We got babies and pregnant women multiplying by the day it seems like. But gathering info ain’t a problem. I got your number and will get back to you in a few days after I talk with the brothers.”

  “Thank you,” I said, but the line had already cut off.

  Booth hit the speakerphone button, then sat back in his seat.

  “Well, he sounds like an interesting bloke,” Booth said with an amused smirk.

  “Definitely interesting. I think this kitten would be fun to get together with the flock.”

  “Your mother’s bloody flock are the cause of most of my grey hairs.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh because it was probably true. They did have a knack for getting themselves into some pretty tight spots.

  “Oh, Vinnie, your hair ain’t grey, not much, a
nyway,” I joked, the lighter atmosphere in the room after all that went down that day surrounding me.

  He has a lot more grey hairs than me. I ain’t got any.

  The bubble of laughter left my mouth before I could stop it.

  Booth’s eyes narrowed at me, but his mouth curled up into a smirk.

  “What did the big prick say— No, don’t tell me. It will probably just piss me off. Can you take care of the last-minute arrangements for the run? Zander has the route all mapped out. Just need to confirm the bookings for the rooms. Oh, and make sure Seb and Squid have the truck serviced. We are bringing back thirty crates of stock for all the businesses. I don’t want a blowout or a breakdown.”

  I nodded. “Sure, Pres. What are you going to do?”

  Booth stood up, then leaned down and planted his hands on the table, a wicked grin forming. “My wife.”

  “Ewww! Uncle Vinnie, no!” I gagged. Geez!

  Booth laughed his way to the door, then his head turned around and looked in the direction I had been looking earlier where Darth was still standing.

  “You tell him that most of my grey hairs are because of him,” he quipped with a wink, then walked out, leaving both Darth and me laughing.

  Chapter 12

  Zander

  I adjusted my left side mirror for what seemed like the millionth time.

  Shiloh was still where she was the last time I checked on her forty seconds before.

  I didn’t normally get so uncomfortable when we went on a run and Shiloh would take her own bike. As per the rules of any Wounded Souls run, the road captain rode in formation with the president. It was my job to secure the route we took to get to our destination, so I rode up front with the VP and enforcer behind, then behind them was the SAA and treasurer, and any other patch after that. The prospects brought up the rear, and our formation was always two abreast.

  Today, I had a bad feeling about things. Not that she couldn’t ride. Shiloh was probably the better rider out of the two of us, so her competence never came into question. No, my anxiety and unease had more to do with her injuries, and the bigger issue that somewhere out there, two arseholes were gunning for my woman, and here we were, five hundred kilometres from home, riding in a convoy with a heavy, rigid truck behind us hauling seventeen thousand kilos of cargo.

  We picked up everything from Scotch whiskey, toolboxes, and tools to helicopter parts. Even fifteen new barstools for the strip club. There was a fuck tonne of money and parts in the truck behind me, and we had to get it home all in one piece as well as the riders.

  Not worrisome at all, right?

  I rechecked my mirror and noticed Shiloh was squirming in her seat, her leg lifting off the footrest as she stretched it out. Okay, that was it. We needed to stop. I gave two toots of my horn to get Booth’s attention, and his answering chin lift gave me the permission I needed to raise my hand high in the air above me, motioning for the group to pull over.

  As luck had it, a truck rest stop was just in front of us.

  ***

  “Honey, if we keep stopping every hour, it’s going to be nightfall before we get home,” Shiloh said, then pinched me on my nipple, earning her a spanking.

  “I saw you stretch your leg three times in less than twenty minutes, Spunky. Yesterday, you rode the whole way without a break, so today, we break,” I stated firmly. “I am the road captain, and this is my run, nothing more to be said.”

  “Yeah, well, you better get me back in time for my bachelorette party, road captain, or your VP is going to be pissed, and worse than that, your fiancée will make you go without sex for a week.”

  I laughed at that one because the woman couldn’t keep her hands off me. Since our ‘coming out,’ Shiloh became the queen of PDAs, not that I was complaining, mind you. I quite enjoyed being groped in the kitchen at the compound, and I thoroughly enjoyed her sitting astride me in the main room when the place was calm and quiet, and it was just the two of us. She no longer bolted away from me when footsteps came from the corridor. Even when her dad was around, she touched and kissed me. Nothing porno-worthy—that would be dangerous and wrong—but she showed me with her actions that I was her number one goal.

  “Woman, you wouldn’t last three minutes into that week. You worship my cock, admit it.” Our banter was fun, but it served a purpose—the more we talked and joked, the more time she had off the bike.

  “I fucking hope I didn’t hear you talking about your cock, Zander, and I know I didn’t hear you say my daughter worships it,” Deck shouted at me. He was sitting sideways on his bike with his head down, looking at his phone, no doubt texting his wife.

  “Dad, if you didn’t hear him, why did you just repeat what he said?”

  I grabbed Shiloh around the waist and lifted her off the ground, being careful of her side.

  “Stop poking the big-muscled angry bear, Spunky.” I kissed her hard, not giving her my tongue because riding with a hard-on was not my idea of a good time.

  “You know, I might just worship your cock on my knees later when we get home—if we get home.” Shiloh giggled when I groaned and placed my hand over my groin. The bastard behind my zipper reacted immediately to her sexy threat.

  “Fuck, Spunky, really?” I groaned again.

  Shiloh stood on her tiptoes and gave me a chaste kiss, then bit my chin.

  “Get me home, RC,” she almost begged. Then, with a saucy wink, she turned and headed back to her bike, calling for everyone to mount up as she went.

  I took a minute to admire the way she took her role as VP and rocked it. It hadn’t escaped my attention that Booth was standing back more and letting Shiloh take the lead in a lot more situations.

  My dad said Booth wasn’t going to stand down this year, or even the next, but soon enough, Shiloh was going to get the opportunity to lead the Souls. And I, for one, couldn’t wait to see her take the reins.

  Chapter 13

  Booth

  These runs were starting to kick my old arse. I looked longingly in my mirror at the truck at the rear of the bikes. Damn, I wish I was driving that with Stella beside me. Maybe she could be persuaded to take her belt off, lean over, and unzip—

  “What the fuck is that?” I muttered aloud. Behind the truck, I could make out three bikes—no, make that five coming up. The riders were riding across the road in one line, not two abreast as the road rules required. Most motorcycle clubs obeyed this law, but there were the ones that thought themselves bad-arse and didn’t think they had to follow such laws.

  I could see they were wearing cuts, and I would put the club’s next year’s profit payment that they had Devil’s Advocates written on them.

  Without another thought, I raised my fist in the air and pumped it twice, the silent military signal for hurry up. My signal got the reaction I knew it would, and the sound of horns tooting twice told me my club knew what to do.

  I looked to my side and saw Zander was already in motion, his body lowered over his bike as he swerved out of formation and made room for Shiloh to take over his position beside me, something she did immediately.

  I wrestled with my inner turmoil to protect Shiloh—the princess, the girl I helped raise from an infant—or to let my VP do her thing, treat her exactly like she wanted, a patch and an equal.

  “I pressed my locator. By now, Ford will have the signal, so we just gotta keep this pace up until he sends help,” Shiloh shouted at me, moving her bike closer to mine so I could hear what she was saying.

  I gave her a quick chin lift, then yanked on my throttle. Shiloh was right. We needed to keep moving. Ford would know that if a locator was armed, it was for a good reason and backup was needed. Normally, it entailed a trailer because a bike broke down. I just hoped he didn’t take too long.

  Seb was driving the truck and would be getting a call from the club.

  My job was to get my people home safe and in one piece. The Devil’s Advocates were now most definitely and officially on my shit list.

 
Chapter 14

  Zander

  Never had I felt so fucking conflicted.

  I had a job to do as the road captain—stay behind with the SAA and enforcer while my pres and VP were alone up ahead.

  A quick look at Deck and I could see the same confliction waring inside of him. He too had a job with Mannix to protect the members and the haul, but his daughter was one of those members, and her rank didn’t mean diddly squat to him right now.

  It didn’t to me, either. I couldn’t compartmentalise her into two different roles. Nope, she was my woman, the fucking beat of my heart, and love of my life.

  Just as I decided to go with my gut and catch up to Shiloh, the five bikes suddenly got up level with Deck, Mannix, and me. You didn’t have to be a Harley expert to know that the bikes they were riding were pieces of shit and nowhere near as well maintained as ours. Their engines spluttered and over-revved to keep up with us.

  Even over the roar of our three bikes, I could hear the miss in at least two of the engines. No wonder they came looking for mechanics the day they attacked Shiloh. My fists gripped the handlebars of my bike so hard that if I weren’t wearing gloves, I would see the whites of my knuckles. I fucking hated thinking about someone hitting my woman and thinking it was okay. All I knew was when I finally got that prick in front of me, he was going to lose most of his teeth.

  One of the riders looked over at Deck and baulked—I literally saw his face go white. He wasn’t wearing a full-face helmet or even a legal one. Just a stupid bucket with two horns coming out the sides. A devil? Real original, fucker. That was when I saw the letters on his cut—Guts. No fucking way! This was one of the two guys involved in the incident at the bike shop. The one that hit my woman. Switching my eyes from the road to the riders and back again, I tried to make out the other name I was more interested in—Slither. That was the prick I wanted. Guts was going to die for marking Shiloh, but this other bastard threatened to come after her.