Page 6 of Slash
His.
His brave little girl.
The words rolled around in his head. Was she even a little? Her sister was but… not all apples fell the same way off the tree.
But the signs were there if you knew what to look for. The way she'd immediately responded to his authority in the apartment. The relief in her eyes when he'd taken charge. The way she'd melted slightly when he'd praised her. She might not know the terminology, might not understand the dynamic, but her nature was clear to someone who knew what to look for. And he'd been in the lifestyle long enough to recognize a natural submissive when he saw one.
"Slash," Savage approached, his expression serious. "Any trouble on the road?"
"Clean ride," Slash reported, though he kept one eye on Nicole as Savannah fussed over her. "What's the situation with the ex?" He’d sent Savage a long text while Nicole had finished packing up the apartment. He needed answers and he needed them now. They’d gone to get Nicole because of a threat from a rival motorcycle gang who’d been threatening and blackmailing Savannah. The ex-wasn’t even on his radar.
"Brock Holt. Piece of shit with connections to some unsavory people. Dax thinks he might try something stupid out of spite now that his primary income source is in cuffs." Savage's voice dropped. "He hurt her, brother. Bad enough that she's been running scared for a year."
The familiar cold rage settled in Slash's chest, the same ice-calm fury that had served him well in the desert. "He won't get near them."
"You sure you want to take this on?" Savage asked quietly. "This isn't a club assignment anymore. This is personal for you. I can see it."
Slash's jaw tightened. Was he that transparent? "They need protection."
"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it." Savage's knowing look made Slash want to punch something. "I've seen how you're looking at her. Like she's already yours."
"Drop it."
"Just saying, brother. Be careful. She's been through hell. Don't add to it."
The implication that he would hurt her made his teeth grind, but he knew Savage meant well. "I know what I'm doing."
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, you look like a man who's already made up his mind about something that should take time."
Slash didn't respond, mainly because Savage was right. He'd made up his mind the moment Nicole had stood between him and her daughter, terrified but determined. Everything after that was just details.
"Lucky wants to brief everyone inside. We've set up rooms for them in the residential wing."
Slash nodded but found himself reluctant to move away from Nicole and Kayleigh. They were his responsibility now, and every instinct he'd honed over years of combat was screaming at him to stay close, to keep them in his line of sight.
"They'll be safe inside," Savage said quietly, reading his expression. "Half the club's here, armed to the teeth and spoiling for a fight. Nobody's getting through our security."
Logically, Slash knew he was right. The Spartan Watchmen clubhouse was a fortress, designed to protect the people inside from threats both foreign and domestic. But logic didn't have much to do with the primitive need clawing at his chest—the need to stand between Nicole and anything that might hurt her.
“I know.” Slash said with a nod, then found himself moving toward Nicole without conscious thought. She looked lost standing there with her duffle bag, watching club members go about their business with the expression of someone who'd accidentally wandered into a foreign country. Savannah was still listening to Kayleigh chatter away.
"You okay?" he asked, keeping his voice low. Without asking, he reached up and took the bag from her and swung it over his own shoulder.
She looked up at him, and he could see exhaustion pulling at the corners of her eyes. "This is really your home?"
"Has been for five years," he confirmed. "These men, they're my family. They'll protect you and Kayleigh with their lives if necessary."
"Because Savannah asked them to?"
"Yes, she’s one of us." The words came out rougher than he'd intended, carrying more weight than was probably appropriate. "And because protecting women and children is what we do."
Something flickered in her expression, surprise, maybe, or the beginning of understanding. She'd been handling everything alone for so long, she'd probably forgotten what it felt like to have someone else step up and shoulder the burden.
"I don't know how to do this," she admitted quietly. "Let other people make decisions about my life."
Yes you do.
He could see it in the way her shoulders sagged with relief when he took charge, in the way she'd followed his instructions without argument during the ride. Nicole Hartman was a natural submissive, who'd been forced into the role of protector. It was wearing her down to nothing.
