Chapter 4
SLASH
T he "emergency" turned out to be nothing more than Rampage and Mad Dog getting into it over a pool match. Typical club bullshit that would have blown over in two minutes if left alone. Good natured ribbing. One had accidentally knocked over a chair.
Fuck.
Why had he bolted out of the kitchen like a gun had gone off? What was with the over reaction?
But Slash was grateful for the interruption, because it gave him a chance to get his head on straight.
Good girl.
The way Nicole had immediately submitted when he'd used his command voice had hit him like a fucking freight train.
He'd given orders to plenty of people over the years.
Soldiers, club prospects, civilians in crisis situations.
But none of them had ever responded with that particular combination of trust and relief.
Like she'd been waiting her whole life for someone to take control.
That memory clung to him, stubborn as a shadow.
Her eyes, wide but steady, her breath hitching, not in fear but in…
surrender. Christ, it had been the kind of reaction a man didn’t just walk away from.
His body was still humming with it, a raw current of need and responsibility tangled together.
It was dangerous —she was dangerous— to him.
A woman like Nicole could undo him if he let her.
Christ. He was in deep shit.
By the time he made it back to the kitchen, Nicole and Kayleigh were sitting at the small table, sharing a plate of slightly lopsided pancakes. Savannah was gone, probably giving them space to settle in.
"Everything okay?" Nicole asked, though her eyes were wary.
"Just brothers being idiots," Slash assured her, taking a seat across from them. "Nothing you need to worry about."
"I wasn't worried," Nicole said, but the way she relaxed at his words said otherwise. "These are really good pancakes, by the way."
"I helped!" Kayleigh announced around a mouthful of syrup. "Slash showed me how to make them perfect."
"I can see that," Nicole said, smiling at her daughter. The expression transformed her whole face, erasing the lines of stress and fear that seemed permanently etched there. "You're quite the chef."
"Slash is going to teach me more," Kayleigh said seriously. "He says cooking is important because it means you can take care of people you love."
Nicole's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Did he now?"
Slash met her gaze across the table, not backing down from the challenge he saw there. "It's true. Taking care of people is the most important thing a person can do."
"And who takes care of you?" The question slipped out before Nicole seemed to realize she was asking it, color flooding her cheeks immediately after.
"Don't need taking care of," he said automatically.
The lie tasted bitter. He knew damn well he needed something, maybe not care the way civilians thought of it, but grounding, a place to set down the weight he carried.
Trouble was, he’d stopped believing, a long time ago, that such a place existed.
Until now, sitting across from a stubborn woman and her pancake-devouring kid.
"Everyone needs taking care of," Kayleigh piped up with the wisdom of a four-year-old. "Even big tough guys like Slash. Right, Mommy?"
Nicole's color deepened. "I... yes, baby. Everyone needs someone to care about them."
The moment stretched between them, loaded with things neither was ready to say. Slash found himself imagining what it might be like to come home to this every day. Nicole's soft smile, Kayleigh's chatter, the simple domestic peace of sharing a meal with people who mattered.
The thought landed hard. He’d lived in barracks, safehouses, clubhouses, bunked down in deserts and foreign cities where gunfire was more reliable than running water, but none of it had ever felt like home until he’d come to Colorado and found a brotherhood.
A family. And now here he was, watching a little girl stack pancakes like building blocks, and damned if it didn’t feel closer to another type of home than anything in his life ever had.
That scared the hell out of him more than bullets ever had.
Dangerous thinking for a man like him.
"So, what happens now?" Nicole asked, breaking the spell. "I mean, I can't stay here indefinitely. I have a job, Kayleigh starts kindergarten soon, l..."
"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?"
The question was loaded, and they both knew it. This wasn't really about dishes or decision-making. This was about the fundamental dynamic building between them, the push and pull of dominance and submission that neither was quite ready to acknowledge.
"Only when it matters," Slash said quietly.
Nicole's breath hitched. "And this matters?"
"You matter." The words came out rougher than he'd intended, carrying more weight than was probably wise. "Both of you."
For a moment, the kitchen was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and Kayleigh's quiet singing as she played with her remaining pancakes.
Then Nicole nodded, something settling in her expression. "Okay."
"Okay, what?"
"Okay, you can boss me around. For now." Her cheeks were pink, but her gaze was steady. "Just... be patient with me? I'm out of practice at letting people take care of me."
Something warm and possessive unfurled in Slash's chest. "I can do patient, little girl. When it counts. Now let’s talk about a couple rules.” He held up a hand, ticking them off.
“One: You don’t leave the clubhouse or my sight without permission.
Two: You don’t hide things from me. I need open honest communication to keep you both safe.
If your ex contacts you, if something feels off, you tell me.
Immediately. Three: You don’t put yourself in danger trying to prove you’re strong.
Because strength isn’t pretending you don’t need help, Nicole.
It’s trusting the man standing in front of you to give it. ”
“And what if I don’t follow your rules?” she challenged, lifting her chin. “You said we would talk if we disagreed.”
His gaze darkened. His voice dropped, rough with promise. “We will talk if you disagree with me. But, if you disobey me? Then I correct you. On the spot. Over my knee if that’s what it takes. Never in front of Kayleigh, I promise.”
Her cheeks pinkened. He noticed her tightened nipples through her shirt. Interesting. She was definitely demonstrating signs of attraction. “You can’t just?—”
“I can,” he interrupted, moving even closer to her. “And I will. Because I’ll be damned if I let that little girl lose her mother because you were too proud to listen.”
“I should be furious with you.”
“But you aren’t.”
“Not exactly. What you are saying… it sounds like control.”
Slash’s scarred mouth curved, slow and dangerous.
“Sweetheart, that’s exactly what it is. But make no mistake, it’s not the type of control your ex had over you.
What he gave you was abuse, not control.
Real control, the kind I take, is steady, safe, and it frees you from carrying everything alone.
You’ll always know the difference, because one breaks you down, and the other builds you up.
My kind of control frees you. It’s where you can finally breathe because someone else is holding the weight, keeping you safe, so you don’t have to tread water anymore.
” He studied her as she looked at her hands.
Finally she lifted her head and met his gaze.
He barely heard the words of consent come from her mouth.
“Okay, I guess I can try.”
“I know you haven’t been getting much sleep lately and Kayleigh looks pretty exhausted.
Why don’t you two head to your room and watch a movie and maybe take a nap.
I have a few things to take care of. I have a feeling you could use some downtime.
I had the mini fridge in your room stocked with drinks and there’s snacks on the dresser.
The TV is signed into pretty much every streaming service there is.
Go, relax. I’ll catch up with you later. ”
As Nicole and Kayleigh headed off to their rooms, Slash found himself whistling under his breath as he cleaned up the kitchen. It had been a long time since he'd felt this settled, this right about a decision.
Nicole Hartman was going to be a challenge.
She was proud, independent, scarred by her past, just like him.
But underneath all that armor was a woman who craved exactly what he was offering: protection, structure, someone strong enough to carry the weight she'd been shouldering alone.
He had been slightly annoyed when they sent him to go get her. Now, he was anything but.
This was going to be interesting.