Page 11 of Slash
"School doesn't start for another month," Slash pointed out. "And your job can wait until we make sure you're safe."
"I can't just not work. I have bills, responsibilities to take care of."
"Handled."
Nicole's eyes flashed. "What do you mean, handled?"
"I mean the club takes care of its own. You don't need to worry about money while you're under our protection."
"I'm not a charity case," Nicole said, her voice tight with wounded pride.
Slash leaned back in his chair, studying her flushed face and defensive posture. "No, you're not. You're a woman who's been carrying too much weight for too long. Nothing wrong with letting someone else shoulder the load for a while. The men here all get military pensions. We’ve all served. We pool our money and our resources and there’s an abundance. Many of us have other, high paying, gigs. We own a motorcycle shop that we pitch in at. Money is not an issue." He didn’t mention how many of them worked for a private security firm. One job would pay all his bills for an entire year, and he averaged six a year.
"I don't need?—"
"What you need," Slash interrupted, letting authority creep into his voice, "is to stop fighting me on every goddamn thing and trust that I know how to keep you safe."
Nicole's mouth snapped shut, but he could see the argument burning in her eyes.
“That’s a naughty word!” Kayleigh said, mouth full of pancake.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I might need to start a curse jar!” Slash joked before turning back to Nicole. "Besides," he continued, gentling his tone, "Kayleigh could use some time to just be a kid. When's the last time she played without you watching for threats?"
That hit home. Nicole's shoulders sagged as she looked at her daughter, who was happily building a tower out of pancake pieces.
"I just... I've been handling things on my own for so long," Nicole whispered. "I don't know how to let someone else make decisions about our lives."
"Start small," Slash suggested. "Let me decide what's for dinner tonight. Let me check the locks before you go to bed. Let me worry about whether that noise outside is a threat or just the wind."
Nicole bit her lip, considering. "And if I don't like your decisions?"
"Then we talk about it. Like adults." He paused, then added with a slight smile, "Though I should warn you, I'm pretty used to getting my way."
A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth. "I bet you are."
"Mommy, are we staying here for a long time?" Kayleigh asked, finally looking up from her pancake sculpture.
"For a little while, baby," Nicole said carefully. "Until it's safe to go home."
"Can Slash stay with us when we go home?" Kayleigh asked with the blunt curiosity of childhood. "I like him. He makes good pancakes and he's not scary once you get used to him."
Slash's chest tightened. When was the last time a kid had looked at him without flinching? When was the last time someone had seen past the scar and the violence to the man underneath?
"We'll see," Nicole said diplomatically. "That's... complicated."
But she was looking at him when she said it, and there was something in her expression that made him think she wasn't entirely opposed to the idea.
"Tell you what," Slash said, standing up and beginning to clear the dishes. "Why don't you two get settled in your rooms? Rest a bit. I'll take care of this mess."
"I should help—" Nicole started to rise.
"Sit," Slash commanded, not harshly but with enough authority that she immediately settled back in her chair. "You've been driving yourself into the ground for months. One afternoon of letting someone else handle things isn't going to kill you."
Nicole stared at him for a long moment, something shifting in her expression. "You're very bossy."
"I prefer 'decisive,'" Slash said dryly.
"Mmm." Nicole tilted her head, studying him. "Are you always this controlling?"
