Chapter 2
SLASH
E than "Slash" Kincaid had faced down Taliban fighters in the mountains of Afghanistan, survived IEDs that should have killed him, and earned his nickname because of the large scar he’d been given in battle.
But having a four-year-old chattering excitedly behind him while driving was testing his composure in ways that combat never had.
"Are we there yet?" Kayleigh asked for the tenth time in the past hour.
"Getting closer, little one," he replied.
His voice came out gentler than he'd intended, surprising himself.
When was the last time he'd spoken to anyone with that kind of softness?
Not since his sister's kids, maybe, and that had been years ago.
Before the deployment that changed everything.
Before the scar that made children cry and adults look away.
He glanced over at Nicole. She’d fallen asleep a few minutes ago and he didn't have the heart to wake her.
Even in sleep, she didn't look peaceful.
Her brow was furrowed, her hands clenched in her lap like she was ready to fight even in her dreams. He recognized that kind of exhausted vigilance—he'd seen it in the mirror plenty of times.
He could tell she was a tough little thing.
He'd noticed that right away. The way she'd stood between him and her daughter despite being terrified, the exhaustion in her brown eyes that spoke of someone who'd been fighting battles alone for too long.
She reminded him of those Afghan women who'd learned to be steel when the world demanded it, but who still flinched when big men moved too quickly.
Someone had hurt her. Badly. And that someone was going to pay for it if Slash had anything to say about it.
The protective rage that thought sparked wasn't new.
He'd always hated men who hurt women and children.
It was one of the reasons he'd joined the military in the first place, that naive belief that he could protect the innocent.
But this felt different, more personal. The idea of someone putting their hands on Nicole, making her flinch at shadows, made his knuckles ache with the need to break something.
Preferably the face of whoever had done this to her.
"I’m so bored, this is not a fun adventure after all," Kayleigh announced with the brutal honesty of a preschooler.
"Almost there," Slash promised, taking the exit for Grand Ridge.
“You can get out and stretch your muscles in just a couple minutes.” He caught her eyes in the rearview mirror, bright and curious despite everything.
Kids were resilient like that. But he wondered what she'd seen, what she'd heard.
No four-year-old should know what it was like to pack in the early morning hours before the sun even rose on the horizon and run.
The familiar mountains came into view, and he felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease.
Home.
Where his brothers would help him figure out how to keep Nicole and her daughter safe.
Where he could figure out why the sight of Nicole's scared but determined face had hit him like a punch to the gut.
He'd been attracted to women before, hell, he was human. But this was different. From the moment she'd opened that door, something primal in him had roared mine so loudly he'd barely been able to think straight.
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. But strength 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.
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.