His Reason: The Wounded Souls. Queenscliff Chapter

By Leah Sharelle

BATTLE

I grew up knowing the man who fathered me walked away without waiting for the stick to turn pink. I even had to accept that I had a big brother I never knew, which was fine with me. My mum raised me the best way she knew, and it wasn't her fault life tossed crap at good people.

Battling my way through a career in the Navy when the curveball hit—medical discharge. I ambled aimlessly into life in a 1% MC. For a few years, I enjoyed the lifestyle of booze and a different woman every night. Soon, I was rethinking decisions made when a call from my brother's former commanding officer changed my direction. Being a member of the Wounded Souls' new chapter gave me another direction and path in life. A path that led me straight to a blonde mini cyclone, full of sass and secrets.

Thayer became everything. Every thought, every beat of my heart. If only I could get her to do as she was told. She was a hazard to herself and my sanity, but by God, she was going to be mine.

THAYER

My place in my family was less than an afterthought. My parents hit the jackpot with their firstborn; I was just the unneeded spare child. Ignore me, and with any luck, I might go away. It took seventeen years, but I finally left the frigid confines of my family nightmare only to walk straight into another one. Had it not been for my best friend Oaklee insisting I stay with her I would have never laid eyes on the bossiest biker god ever created.

Battle tested me every step of the way. He bossed me, barged into my life, and took care of me without asking me if I wanted him to do so. Ready-made sandwiches waiting for me in the fridge, with demanding texts barking out orders to eat. Vance 'Battle' Masters knew only one way to deal with me. Barge in and insist that I was His Reason for being born.

Battle offered me everything I'd ever dreamed. Affection and love.

Was it possible, my parents were wrong, and I wasn't the unlovable mistake they accused me of being? Could Battle love me when he finds out my shameful secret? Or will he be like everyone else in my life, leaving me wondering what was wrong with me?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Leah Sharelle
• Release date: Nov 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201121525

Book preview

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright © 2021 Leah Sharelle

His Reason

By Leah Sharelle

All Rights Reserved.

Editing and Proofreading: R Corcoran

Photography: Chic Professional Photography

Cover Models: Hayley and Matthew Cecil.

Cover Design: Formatting & Design by Jaye

Interior Design: Formatting & Design by Jaye

This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the properties of the author, and your support and respect are appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author

DEDICATION

To having someone who cares if you haven’t eaten today.

FROM LEAH

I deal with a very sensitive and serious disorder in this book. I have done my utmost to deal with it gently and kindly.

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PROLOGUE

BATTLE

AGE FIFTEEN

Five men sat across from me at the kitchen table.

All five dressed in leather jackets with the name the Wounded Souls on the back.

They all arrived at my house on the coolest Harley-Davidsons.

I nearly squealed like a girl when they called me by name before I even got to introduce myself. Then they came inside, and an hour later, I kinda wished they’d driven on by and never bothered to tell me their news.

I stared at my mum, and I knew instantly she had no idea either.

You doin’ okay, mate? the one with the grey eyes asked me again. His jacket had a stitched patch with the word President over one pocket and on the other was Booth.

Cool name.

So, I drawled, giving each man a pointed look. "You’re telling me I had a brother. He died when I was three, but I’m only hearing about it now, twelve years later?"

Vance, watch your tone, my mother scolded me, dabbing her nose with her lace hanky. My mother was big on manners; in fact, she taught manners at the local community club. Mum should have been born in the olden Victorian days. She never drank tea from a coffee mug, and she always wore dresses, make-up and jewellery. Tissues weren’t allowed in our house, only proper handkerchiefs. Some people thought she was weird because she acted so old but was only thirty-five years old.

Mum’s best friend told me once that Mum had not always been this way. I guessed that much considering she was twenty when she had me. And, through the lack of my father’s presence in my life, I got the picture that I was either a result of a one-night stand or a brief affair.

Sorry, I mumbled to the men across from me, then glanced at my mum and gave her a wink. Sorry, Mumma. The woman was the most important person in my life; if she wanted me to watch my tone, then I would.

I get your shock and frustration, Vance, a bigger blond dude who looked more like he belonged on an episode of Home and Away than wearing a leather cut with the name Steel stitched over his pocket. Believe us when we tell you, our intentions to tell you about your brother was good. We didn’t tell you until now because you were only three when Darth died. That is a bit much for a toddler to take in.

Why did you wait so long to tell my mum? I asked suddenly. Surely she should have known before me.

Maybe, Booth conceded, but I could see that he didn’t believe I was right.

But, you don’t think so. Quirking my brows at the intense president.

No. Darth’s death was not something you needed to hear about so young.

Did he know about me? About Mum? I asked timidly. I was a big guy for fifteen; I played footy in the winter, cricket in the summer and boxed at a local gym four nights a week with my best mates. Not many people intimidated me.

These guys did—especially Booth.

Yes, he did, Booth admitted, his grey eyes holding mine. My jaw ticked and I didn’t know what to do with that information.

His father, your father, Booth acknowledged my parentage with a grimace, was a complete arsehole. Turning to my mother, Booth offered her a weird chin lift gesture.

Apologies, Ms Masters.

My mother blurted out a humourless laugh, Oh please, I already knew that.

Darth made sure you were looked after. He knew that your sperm donor wouldn’t help your mum, so he set up a bank account. He made sure that it appeared to come from a long-lost relative. It was important to him to know that you would grow up okay.

I listened to the explanation, but it did nothing to calm my pissed-off mood. If my brother was such a good man, why the hell didn’t he come to see me? Looking over at my mum, I saw that this was news to her too. My mother worked, but not because she had to. The inheritance she received kept us comfortable, and because she was good at budgeting and going without every luxury, we still had a lot of that money in the bank.

He drove up here regularly, Booth announced, surprising me. He came home afterwards and told us in minute detail what you looked like. Expressed his dreams and desires he had for you. He even talked about wanting to bring you and your mum to our compound in Victoria.

He didn’t, though, did he? I spat my feelings all over the place.

On the one hand, I was thrilled that my big brother looked over me from afar, gave my mum money so she could stay at home and raise me. Then on the other, I was infuriated that he stayed in the shadows, creepily watching my mum and me. Why not just knock on the door and demand to be in my life? The knowledge of his existence didn’t do a damn thing to make me feel better. The man they talked about with such respect was dead, had been for twelve years. Why should I give a shit that he cared about me? For all I knew, the men in leather were bullshitting me and were just trying to make themselves feel better for my abandonment by both my father and brother.

An hour ago, I had no cares in the world other than getting to footy practice and getting Jane Meldrum to go out with me on Saturday night. Now, I had a dead brother and the reminder that my own father didn’t even give my mum any money for having his child.

Suddenly, I felt very alone and unwanted.

It was a feeling I would take with me for many years to come.

BATTLE

AGE TWENTY-FIVE

Medical discharge.

What a fucking joke. Six years in the Royal Australian Navy, and all I had to show for it was a thirty centimetre wound closed with twenty-three stitches, a handful of discharge papers and a useless rank of Petty Officer. The amount of work it took me to get to my rank, the sweat and blood that my body sacrificed, and I had nothing but pain to take with me as I walked off the base for the last time. Dressed in my civilian clothes, my duffel bag over my shoulder, I ignored the calls from my former colleagues and stalked to the taxi I’d ordered to take me to the airport. Perth was no longer home, HMAS Stirling was going to have to learn to get on without me.

Starting now.

BATTLE

AGE THIRTY-FIVE

Battle! You got a call! Georgia shouted from the bar, waving my mobile in her hand at me.

I tossed the pool cue on the felt table and walked slowly to the bar, giving her a chin lift. I was in no rush. The weather outside was hardly accommodating for riding; I was an avid rider, I had to be as a nomad. However, riding in a torrential downpour was not for me.

Taking the phone from the pretty bartender, it didn’t escape me that when our fingers brushed, I felt nothing. Georgia and I hooked up on a regular basis, she was a nice girl with nice manners and … she was nice. I wasn’t looking for nice, though. I was looking for much more than nice.

Explosive.

Desperate.

All consuming.

That was what I wanted. Unfortunately for the pretty brunette, that wasn’t happening.

Thanks, dollface, I winked at Georgia, softening the blow of my subtle brush off from when I arrived at the pub. Avoiding her constant hooded looks and silently spoken question, would I be with her tonight?

Not looking, dollface.

My dick had been limp for a month now. Nothing caught his attention, and quite frankly, I was getting fucking worried.

Some guy named Booth, Georgia mumbled, finally getting that she and I will not be hooking up tonight.

Nodding, I held the phone to my ear.

Yo.

Battle, how goes it? Booth’s deep voice came over the line.

It’s going, I answered shortly. You?

I’ve got an offer for you if you are interested.

Is that right, I muttered, already not interested. Booth had an MC based in Victoria. It was the only chapter of the Wounded Souls, a group of ex-military guys not prepared to give up the brotherhood. They always fascinated me because they worked inside the parameters of the law—a strange but slightly curious way to run a motorcycle club.

My brother had been a member of not only the club, but he had been a part of Booth’s commando team. Darth died protecting a member’s kid. I never even knew he existed until years after his death. Thanks to Booth and his brothers, I got to get a sense of who Darth was when he was alive. In saying that, it pissed me off that Darth gave his life for a toddler who at the time had been the same age as me when Darth took a bullet for her.

She got that from him while I got jack shit.

Yeah, Booth continued, not knowing where my head was going. We are starting up a new chapter of the Souls in Queenscliff. Last time we spoke, you were hinting that the nomad life was starting to lose its appeal.

He wasn’t wrong there. Ten years in the Iron Serpents MC, three of those as a nomad, I was ready for a change.

I realise you need to organise some shit with your pres, but I was thinking of asking for a patch over. Where are you on that idea? Again Booth continued like I wasn’t itching to punch someone in the face. The same reaction I always had whenever my brother entered my head.

Patch over?

Saves leaving the club outright, I know that there would be consequences if you do that.

He wasn’t wrong there either. Asking for an out wasn’t exactly a simple thing to accomplish, but patching over to another club could keep my tattoos intact and my face.

Nomad membership wasn’t for everyone. After three years on the road, it was becoming a little tiresome. Maybe setting down some roots would serve me better than riding across the country. And I wanted roots.

Taking a beer off the bar, I sauntered over to a quiet corner and settled into a chair.

Keep talkin’ Booth, you’ve got me intrigued.

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CHAPTER ONE

BATTLE

Little dude, where did you put the quarter-inch socket? I uselessly asked Max. My little partner in crime was mine for the day while his parents went to check out wedding venues, and because I didn’t trust anyone else with him, I had Max in the garage with me, which meant he was getting into everything and being no help whatsoever.

Lost, Max chirped, his chubby little hands sweeping around, motioning the whole space we were standing in.

Lost where exactly? I sighed, looking down at the toddler with a mock frown on my face. In the past week, Max had ‘lost’ a total of nine sockets, three spanners and a set of feeler gauges. Somewhere in the garage was little Maxie’s hiding spot, and one day, I was gonna find it.

Dunno, Max shrugged at me, his satisfied smile making me chuckle.

Fair enough, I conceded, Looks like we need to get Low to do some ordering, hey mate?

Low! Tats! Max squealed, suddenly losing interest in the tools on the ground.

I didn’t say anything about Tats, I grumbled, wiping the grease from my hands before leaning down to pick up Max and toss him up on my shoulders.

Tats! Max screeched again, his little feet kicking at my chest.

Snorting, I walked out of the garage, trying not to show my excitement about the same pain in the arse that had Max screaming like a banshee.

How come she never gives you death glares when you call her that? Because when I do, I swear my balls shrivel to the size of raisins.

Balls! Max shouted, causing me to groan. Meagan was already on my arse for teaching him too many curse words. Maybe I won’t get in trouble this time; after all, balls isn’t exactly a swear word.

Grabbing hold of one chubby leg, I dropped my head back to look up at Max.

Listen here, you little dobber, don’t go saying that in front of your Mumma. Please, I begged like a pathetic wanker, only receiving a slobbery smile and a thumbs up. Throwing thumbs was Max’s newest acquisition to his repertoire. You got a thumbs up no matter the circumstance, so I wasn’t going to hold my breath. The little shit couldn’t help himself.

You are supposed to be on my side, little dude, I admonished him as I pushed open the big wooden door of the main building.

Battle! Max giggled, his leg kicking under my grip. Then he made everything better when he leaned down and planted a smacking kiss on the top of my head.

Fuck, I love you, little Maxie, I murmured, meaning every single word.

Fuck!

Dropping my head to my chest, I counted to five. Not that I needed that long.

Max, did you just say the F word? my pain in the arse yelled from her spot on the couch. Humungous!

And just like that, Max was in my bad books.

Little shit, I muttered, changing my course from the kitchen to the couch.

Have you eaten? I demanded as soon as I reached Thayer, my eyes boring into her vivid blue ones. The only way to see if Thayer was lying was to look into her eyes. She could pull the wool over an expert polygraph operator, but not me.

Glaring down at the pint-sized sexy woman who haunted my every dream, I made sure my scowl had a little extra oomph … just to piss her off.

I don’t see how that is any of your business, Thayer sassed back at me, not surprisingly.

Is that right? Raising my brows, I narrowed my eyes at her. Stay! Pulling Max off my shoulders, I tossed the giggling toddler into Thayer’s lap then headed for the kitchen without saying any more to her. I didn’t have to.

She knew what I was going to do.

Working quickly, I made a simple peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich, swiped a bottle of water from the fridge, a juice box and a packet of sultanas, then headed back into the main room. Predictably, Thayer hadn’t stayed as I’d ordered her to and instead had moved to the pool table, taking Max with her.

Do you ever do as you are told? I muttered, slamming the plate holding the sandwich down on the felt table top, then opened the bottle of water and handed it to her.

Here, Maxie, I softened my voice as I picked him up and settled him on a bean bag with his juice and sultanas. Give me a few, little dude, and then we will go see Low. Satisfied that Max had about five minutes before he went looking for trouble, I focused my attention back on Thayer.

Well?

Oh, you want me to actually answer you? Thayer’s look of pretence just as predictable.

Thayer, I muttered, shaking my head.

I have a doctors appointment —

I know, I responded, cutting her off. There wasn’t an appointment I didn’t know about, not an outing she went on that I didn’t scout out first. Basically, Thayer didn’t do anything I didn’t already know about beforehand.

Of course you do, Thayer muttered, sinking her teeth into the disgusting sandwich, grinning when she realised that she had done what I wanted her to do.

Arsehole, she grumbled around her mouthful, just as I thought she would.

Hey, you’re eating and that is all that matters.

Getting Thayer to eat was a mind-boggling series of hair-pulling exercises in control. She weighed no more than forty-five kilos soaking wet, but she made up in sass what she lacked in a healthy weight. That wasn’t to say the tiny woman

Reviews for His Reason

[Petra Ruck · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A sexy ride, I loved how feisty She is and how devoted Battle is, right from page one he all in.