Page 28 of Slash
He gunned the throttle, the engine screaming as he closed the distance. Sixty. Seventy. Eighty. The world blurred into streaks of color, but his focus never wavered from that black SUV. From the small handprints on the back window that made his blood boil.
The chase ended in violence, sudden and inevitable.
The SUV tried to cut into the backroads, tires squealing in protest as it took the turn too fast. Amateur move. Slash had anticipated it, cornering with a controlled slide that had him ahead of the vehicle before the driver could correct. Mad Dogmaterialized from the left flank like an avenging angel, Rampage cutting off the right with surgical precision.
Trapped.
Brock. The fucking coward met his gaze. Slash wasn’t sure what he saw when he looked at him, but he panicked. Slash could see it in the erratic steering, the overcorrection that sent the vehicle spinning. Time slowed as he watched the SUV careen out of control, his heart stopping as it tilted dangerously before slamming into a ditch with a crunch of metal and glass.
She better be okay. Not a single hair better be touched on her head, or I'll make his death last for days.
Bile rose up in his throat, his blood turned cold. She better be fucking okay. She better be. Terror like he never felt before, not in combat, not watching his mentor die, a deeper fear, pierced his heart.
Slash was off his bike before the tires stopped spinning. Gun already in hand, expression pure death, he ripped open the back door with enough force to nearly tear it from its hinges.
Kayleigh screamed, not in fear but in relief, and launched herself into his arms with desperate trust. "Slash! You came! You came!"
He caught her, his large hands impossibly gentle as he pressed her face into his cut, shielding her from what was about to happen. He growled against her hair, the sound more felt than heard, "I've got you. You're safe, sweetheart. Nobody's going to hurt you. Ever."
She sobbed against him, her little body trembling so hard he could feel it through his leather. Her small fingers gripped his cut like she'd never let go, and he shifted her onto his hip like she weighed nothing, turning slightly to aim his gun at the man climbing from the driver's side.
Nicole's ex.
Brock looked exactly like his picture but worse. He was bloody from the crash, snarling like a rabid dog, eyes wild with something that might have been drugs or insanity or both. "She's mine. She'll always be mine—my blood, my kid?—"
Slash's voice was thunder, the sound of judgment. "Not anymore."
The other Spartans dragged the bastard to his knees before he could spit another word, their faces masks of controlled fury. Slash put away his weapon and tightened his hold on Kayleigh and deliberately turned his back on Brock—the ultimate dismissal, a predator deciding the prey wasn't worth his immediate attention.
His priority was the little girl in his arms. Nothing else mattered. He trusted his brothers to handle the trash. He needed to take care of his two girls.
His.Both of them. Always.
He knew it with absolute certainty now, after his heart had completely stopped when the vehicle spun, after ice-cold terror had rushed through his veins at the thought of losing either of them. He had fallen. Fallen completely for both Nicole and Kayleigh. They belonged to him, and nothing else in the world mattered but keeping them safe.
He carried Kayleigh to Irish's truck, her face still buried against his neck, her tears soaking his shirt. He buckled her into the back with careful, steady hands, watching as she immediately hugged Irish's massive mountain dog tightly around the neck. The gentle giant of a dog seemed to understand, letting her cling without protest.
"Go," Irish told him, already moving toward Slash's abandoned bike. "I'll grab your ride."
"Thanks brother." He knew no other words were needed. This was what brotherhood meant—having your back without question, without hesitation.
The drive back felt both endless and instant. Kayleigh's quiet sniffles from the backseat tore at him, but she was safe. She was alive. That was all that mattered.
By the time they arrived back at the clubhouse lot, Nicole was waiting.
Her entire body collapsed when she saw Slash pull in, like her strings had been cut. She'd been holding herself upright on pure will alone. Kayleigh was still clutching the large mountain dog in the back, but the moment she saw her mother, she started crying anew—relief and trauma mixing into heartbreaking sobs.
Slash unbuckled her seatbelt with gentle efficiency and lowered her into her mother's embrace, but didn't let go entirely. Couldn't let go. One huge hand stayed protectively on Kayleigh's back, fingers spread wide like a shield. The other gripped Nicole's shoulder, anchoring all three of them together. He embraced his entire world and held on tight, creating a fortress with his body that nothing could penetrate.
Nicole buried her face against them both, sobbing so hard her entire body shook. Each breath sounded like it was being torn from her chest. "Thank you. God, thank you. Thank you."
Slash bent close, his lips near Nicole's ear, his voice low and final—a vow and a promise and a threat to anyone who might hear. "He won't ever touch either of you again. That's a promise."
And in the distance, he could hear motorcycles returning, carrying news of problems permanently solved. They wouldn’t have killed him in cold blood, they had intended to wait for Dax to get there and take him to jail. But, when Brock pulled out his gun and aimed it at Mad Dog, he defended himself. It was one shot. One well placed shot. Justice. His girls were safe, and they'd stay that way.
Forever.
EPILOGUE
