Page 16 of Blade

A small, hiccupping laugh escaped her, though there was no real humor in it.

"What's going to happen now?" she asked, her voice small.

"Now, the club handles it," Blade told her. "We look for Tim, see if he's still alive. And we keep you safe."

"But—"

"No buts," he interrupted. "Rule four, remember? No putting yourself in danger. No self-destructive behavior. That includes blaming yourself for things beyond your control."

She looked up at him, those big eyes still shimmering with tears. "I can't just sit here while Tim might be dying because of me."

"Yes, you can," Blade said firmly. "And you will. The club has resources, connections. We'll do everything we can to find him."

"Promise?" she asked, so vulnerable in that moment that something in Blade's chest ached.

"I promise," he said, meaning it. "If Tim can be found, we'll find him. Listen baby, how much do you know about The Watchmen?"

“Not a lot,” she said. “I failed at my job to infiltrate you. I know you are all Daddies… or at least most of you, right?”

“Yes, baby girl. We are all Daddies. We are all also special forces operators. Every last one of us has gone through the fires of hell and come out on the other side. Being an operator comes with its own special set of skills and connections. Have you heard of Valhalla?”

“It’s a neighborhood right outside of Grand Ridge, right? I met Mia and a couple of the other littles at the playdates.”

“Yes. It's a special type of gated community. It’s run a lot like a small military base. It’s heavily guarded and all the men on Valhalla are also former special forces operators. I served with Phantom, the owner of the community. He’s a good man and his wife, Samantha, is a charge nurse at the hospital downtown. If anything happens and we have to relocate you, he’s already offered to keep you on Valhalla. We have several brothers who live there. If there is any evidence that The Rejects have found you, we will head over to Mad Dog’s house. But, I’m not worried about that happening. You're safe here.”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied. Then, to his surprise, she rested her head against his chest again, not pulling away as he expected.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He tightened his arm around her, resting his chin atop her head. She fit perfectly against him, like she was made to be there. The thought should have alarmed him, but instead, it felt right.

They sat like that for several minutes, her breathing eventually evening out. Blade found himself reluctant to break the moment.

Finally, she asked, "Do you think there's really a mole in your club?"

Blade tensed. It was the question he'd been turning over in his mind since they discovered the leak. "Maybe. Maybe not.Could be someone on the periphery. A hang-around, a sweet butt, someone with access but not a patch holder."

"But you're not sure," she guessed.

"No," he admitted. "I'm not."

"Is that why you brought me here instead of to the clubhouse? Because you don't know who to trust?"

Smart girl. "Partly. Also, because I live out here for a reason. I like my privacy."

She pulled back to look at him, studying his face with those perceptive eyes. "You don't seem like the MC type."

Blade raised an eyebrow. "No? What type do I seem like?"

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "Military, obviously. Structured. Disciplined. But the MCs I've seen are all about chaos and partying. You seem more... controlled."

"The Spartan Watchmen aren't your typical MC," he told her. "We operate differently."

"Still," she persisted. "You live out here, away from everyone. That says something."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It says I like my space."

She didn't look convinced but didn't push. Instead, she changed the subject. "So I'm just supposed to stay here until you find Tim? Or until you catch whoever's hunting me?"

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