Page 5 of Slash
It wasn't just attraction, though God knew she was beautiful even exhausted and terrified. It was something deeper, more fundamental. The way she'd looked at him, really looked at him, past the scar, past his intimidating size, and decided to trust him. Most people saw him and saw danger. She'd seen him and saw safety. That was new. That was... everything.
Which was fucked up on about seventeen different levels, considering the woman was running for her life and trusting him to keep her safe. The last thing she needed was him getting ideas about things that were none of his business.
But Christ, when she'd looked up at him with those big brown eyes and whispered "okay” after he commanded her to trust him, like it was the hardest thing in the world... Something inside his chest had cracked wide open. He'd recognized something in her then, something that called to the dominant part of him that he usually kept carefully controlled. She needed someone to take charge, to lift the weight of constant decision-making off her shoulders. And every instinct he had was screaming that he was meant to be that someone.
He cleared his throat, and she stirred, sitting up in the seat next to him. Her hand immediately went to check on Kayleigh in the back, the automatic gesture of a mother who'd learned to be constantly vigilant. Only when she saw her daughter safe did her shoulders drop slightly.
"How long was I out?" she asked, her voice still rough with sleep.
"About twenty minutes," he replied. "You needed it."
She rubbed her eyes, and he noticed her hands were shaking slightly. "I don't usually... I have to stay awake. To watch."
"Not anymore," he said firmly. "That's my job now."
She looked at him then, really looked, and he could see the war in her eyes, the desperate want to believe him battling against what had to be years of disappointment and betrayal. "You can't promise that."
"Watch me."
He waved at Irish who was manning the guard shack and kept driving up the gravel road to the large building where all the officers had their own apartments, where the Littles were more than likely getting into trouble and the only place in the world Slash felt completely accepted and understood for who he was.
"Is that where Auntie Vanvan lives?" Kayleigh asked as they approached the Spartan Watchmen clubhouse. The familiar sight of bikes lined up like chrome soldiers and the solid brick building that had been his second home for the past five years settled something restless in his gut.
"That's right, smart girl," he said, and was rewarded with a bright smile in the mirror. "Your aunt's probably already waiting for you."
"Will there be other kids?" Kayleigh asked hopefully.
The casual way she said it made his chest tight. How long had they been isolated, running, hiding? He made a mental note to ask around and find other kids in town as soon as possible. He knew the other Watchmen’s littles would love to play with Kayleigh, but she would need friends her own age, not only a bunch of grown women.
Slash killed the engine. He looked at Nicole. “Rule one,” he said, his voice gravel rough but quiet enough Kayleigh wouldn’t hear him. “Nobody in there will hurt you. Not while you’re under Spartan protection. But you don’t leave my side. Got it?”
Nicole bristled. “I can take care of myself.”
He leaned closer, his scar catching the light, his gaze hard as steel. “Not the point. You want to prove you’re strong, fine. Butstrength is knowing when to lean on somebody who won’t let you fall. That’s me. You stay close to me, if not me, one of the officers.”
She opened and closed her mouth. He could tell she wanted to argue. Her jaw worked like she was physically chewing on the words she wanted to say. He could practically see her internal struggle—years of forced independence warring with the exhaustion of carrying everything alone. He waited, letting her work through it. This had to be her choice, even if everything in him wanted to simply order her to obey.
But, she thought better of it. “Good girl.” The words spilled out before he could stop them. A blush quickly rose on her cheeks. Ah. Interesting.
Very interesting. The way her pupils dilated slightly, the quick intake of breath, the way she pressed her thighs together almost imperceptibly—he catalogued every reaction. She liked praise. She liked being called a good girl. Which meant his instincts about her were right. The question was whether she was ready to admit it to herself.
Before he could say or do anything else, Savage was out on the steps, with Savannah coming up behind him. When she saw his truck, she took off running towards them.
"Nicole! Oh my God, are you okay?" Savannah reached the truck as Nicole climbed down.
"I'm fine," Nicole said. "Just tired."
Slash noticed she didn't mention the fear, the desperation, the middle-of-the-night packing. Minimizing, deflecting, protecting others from her pain. Another sign of someone who'd been conditioned to make herself small, undemanding. His jaw clenched.
"And me!" Kayleigh announced, wiggling in her car seat. "Auntie Vanvan! I sat on a motorcycle!"
Savannah laughed, tears streaming down her face as she helped Slash unbuckle the little girl. "I can see that, baby. You're so brave!"
Slash found himself watching Nicole instead of the reunion, noting the way she scanned the compound with the wary eyes of someone who'd learned to catalog exits and threats. He was familiar with the tactic; he did the same thing. Every restaurant. Every store. Anywhere he went. He knew where the exits were, where the choke points were. He watched her and saw how her gaze lingered on the patches of club members, the weapons visible in shoulder holsters, the general aura of barely contained violence that clung to places like this. He knew her only experience with MC Clubs was likely Sons of Anarchy. As soon as he got a chance, he’d tell her the differences. He wasn’t in a one percenters club. They were a service organization… with burly men and guns.
He knew she was scared. But she was here anyway, because her sister had asked her to trust men she didn't know with her daughter's life.
His brave little thing.
