The Soldier's Tale Read Online Free Page A

and even more unable to relax. On nights like this, when the village was in darkness and his thoughts refused to allow him to sleep, there was only one thing to do.
    He needed her like he needed his next breath.
    She was beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, and all his.
    His only extravagance from the inheritance his gran had left him. Low slung and cherry red, a beautiful Audi TT Roadster sat next to his dad's old battered Land Rover they used for cross country house visits. Two hundred and sixty-eight horses sat under the Audi's bonnet, and a sound system that blew him out of the water. It was like chalk and cheese, their choice of cars, yet another thing that his dad didn't expect from him. In his dad's opinion, a flashy car was not what a village doctor should be driving.
    He slid into the driver's seat, the leather cocooning him, the smell of new and clean intoxicating to the senses, and peace slipped over him as he shut the door. For a while he just sat there, his arms stiff and his hands gripping tight on the wheel. Losing control of Connor yesterday was bad. He hadn't recognised the lad's appointment earlier in the day for what it was—a cry for help. Damn it, how the bloody hell had he missed it?
    He pulled away from the surgery and drove through the village at a slow speed, the darkness engulfing the car and blurring the scattered homes. The pub at the edge was the final barrier until he was out on the open road. It twisted and turned, and he opened her up, using sense memory of each bend, his mind concentrating at near full capacity. Rhianna played on the iPod, segueing into Lady Gaga and then into Abba. Finally he felt the stress across his shoulders release, and he selected some Enya to pull him home.
    A mile outside of the village he was smiling thinking of the homestretch, his bed, sleep.
    What happened next was his worst nightmare. He came to another bend, and there was something in the road. A shadow, a suggestion of shape, a deer, a fox, and he slammed on the brakes, his stomach clenching, the bushes scraping the side of the car as he wrenched it left and away from the shape. He was going to miss it. He knew it as he glanced at the shadow,then shit, he ended up nose-first in twisted yew at an angle. The smoke from the tyres created an ethereal mist around the embedded car on the dark road.
    "Shit! Fuck! What the—" He had the presence of mind to turn off the engine, caught between horror and shock that he had nearly killed something… someone. In seconds he was out of the door and stumbling to the shape lying on his side in the middle of the road. A man. Oh god no . "Bloody hell," he stuttered and dropped to his knees on the hard road, years of training in emergency care to the fore, testing for a pulse. It was strong.
    "Didn't h-h-hit me," the shape near-whimpered, rolling over onto his back. Sean rocked back on his haunches. Daniel Francis? Lying in the road—not hit? "Why the f-f-fuck you d-driving like Mi-c al Sch'ma'cher?" His voice was strained, vowels slurred, shivery, and in the faint light of shattered headlights, Sean could see the sheen of sweat on grey skin.
    "What the hell are you doing in the middle of the fucking road at two in the morning?" Sean snapped back, his fingers moving to palpate across Daniel's neck.
    "W-w-walking," Daniel pushed out. Sean huffed and held out a hand to help the man up. Walking. What an idiot. Who the hell walked in the pitch black on country roads in the dead of night? Daniel didn't take his hand, stubbornly using his own instead to lever himself up. He fell back with a grunt of pain and an added groan of frustration. Given the level of damage to his knee, he must have been in one hell of a lot of pain.
    "Take my hand," Sean insisted, putting on his best doctor voice, the deep authoritarian tone that brooked no argument.
    "F-f-fuck off," Daniel ground out, and Sean stood abruptly.
    "You want to stay in the road? Suit yourself." With a harsh exhalation of breath, he crossed