Page 6 of Blade (Spartan Watchmen MC #5)

“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?"

"That's the idea," Blade confirmed.

"For how long?"

"As long as it takes."

She frowned. "What am I supposed to do all day? Just sit here and... what? Twiddle my thumbs?"

He hadn't thought that far ahead, truthfully. "There are books. TV. Internet, though I'd prefer if you stayed off social media."

"I don't have any of my things," she pointed out. "My clothes, my—" She cut herself off, a blush creeping into her cheeks.

"Your what?" he prompted.

She looked away. "Nothing. Never mind."

"Rule three, baby girl," he reminded her. "Honesty."

The blush deepened at the nickname. "My... little things," she admitted finally, voice barely audible. "Coloring books. Stuffed animals. Things that help me... you know."

"Regress," he supplied, understanding dawning. "You need your little space."

She nodded, still not looking at him, clearly embarrassed.

"I can get you those things," he said simply.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. "You'd do that?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because it's weird," she said. "Adult women playing with stuffed animals and coloring books. Most people think it's strange."

"I'm not most people," Blade pointed out. "And there's nothing weird about needing a safe space to let go. Especially after what you've been through."

She bit her lip. "Most guys find it off-putting. Too much responsibility. Too many needs."

Blade snorted. "Most guys are weak. They don't understand what it means to take care of something precious." This protective instinct she brought out in him went beyond his duties to the club, beyond the job he'd been assigned. It was personal. Primal.

Dangerous.

He needed to get his head on straight. Set some boundaries.

Remember that she was vulnerable, traumatized, and in his care.

Taking advantage of that would make him no better than the bastards who'd hurt her. He’d give her space and time to feel safe with him.

No doubt, she was his. His little girl. But, he wouldn’t force himself on her.

"I have some more calls I need to make," he said, pulling away from her reluctantly.

She nodded, drawing the blanket back around herself. "Okay."

Blade stood, needing some space to clear his head. "You good here for a bit? Need anything before I make some calls?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Just... let me know if you hear anything?"

"I will," he promised with a small smile of reassurance.

He moved to the kitchen, giving himself some distance while still keeping her in his line of sight. As he pulled out his phone to call Lucky and ask him to get together a care package from the storage closet at the Clubhouse, a text came through from a number he didn't recognize.

Unknown: Tell the little bitch we're coming for her. No one betrays the Rejects and lives.

Ice slid down Blade's spine. He kept his expression neutral, not wanting to alarm Lily, but internally, he was on high alert. How the fuck had they gotten his number? Only his inner circle had this number.

Which meant the mole was higher up than they'd thought, well connected or good with technology.

Fuck.

He typed a quick response, hoping to draw out more information.

Blade: Who is this?

The reply came almost immediately.

Unknown: Someone who knows exactly where you are, enforcer. Might want to check your security.

Blade's blood ran cold. He moved casually to the window, as if just looking outside, but his eyes were scanning the tree line, the approach to the cabin.

Nothing seemed out of place, but that didn't mean they weren't being watched.

He popped open his phone and watched the camera footage coming up and down the road for the past twenty-four hours. No one but Doc.

His instincts screamed danger. He needed to get Lily somewhere else. Somewhere even more secure. But first, he needed to know who the mole was.

He dialed Savage's number, keeping his voice low. "We've been compromised," he said without preamble when Savage answered. "Someone has my number, knows where I am."

"Shit," Savage cursed. "Who? We vet everyone who comes in and out of the clubhouse."

"That's what I need you to find out," Blade replied. "Check the club's prospects. Phone records, bank accounts, recent behavior. Someone's feeding information to the Rejects."

"On it," Savage promised. "What about Lily? You bringing her to the safe house?"

"Not yet," Blade decided. "Moving her might be exactly what they want. For now, we hunker down, beef up security. I need to know who we're dealing with before I make a move."

"I'll send Rampage with supplies," Savage said. "Extra ammo, some of that surveillance equipment you like."

"Have him go to the supply closet and put together a little package. All of it. Make sure he's not followed," Blade warned. "And Savage? Don't tell anyone else. Not until we know who we can trust."

There was a pause on the line. "You think it's one of our officers?"

"I don't know what to think, I don’t think it’s one of them, but they could be compromised in another way," Blade admitted. "But I'm not taking chances. Not with her life on the line."

"Understood," Savage said grimly. "Stay safe, brother."

Blade ended the call and turned back to Lily, who was watching him with concern.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately.

He considered lying, keeping her in the dark to avoid frightening her. But that would break his own rule three. And if they were potentially in danger, she needed to know.

"We may have been compromised," he told her. "I just got a text from an unknown number. Someone who knows you're here."

Her face paled. "They found me."

"Maybe," he acknowledged. "Or maybe they're bluffing, trying to flush us out. Either way, we're not running. Not yet."

"What are we going to do?" she asked, fear evident in her voice.

"First, we're going to secure the premises," he said, moving to a cabinet near the fireplace. He unlocked it, revealing an arsenal of weapons. "Then we're going to wait for Rampage to bring additional supplies. And then we're going to set a trap."

"A trap?"

Blade nodded, selecting a Glock and checking the magazine. "Whoever's coming for you is going to regret it. I guarantee that."

Despite her fear, Lily managed a small smile. "You're pretty scary when you want to be, you know that?"

"Baby girl," he said, sliding the gun into his holster, "you haven't seen scary yet."

He moved to the windows, checking the locks, drawing the blinds. "Come on," he said, extending his hand to her. "I need to show you something."

She took his hand without hesitation, allowing him to help her up. Her trust warmed something in his chest, even as the rest of him remained on high alert.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he led her down the hallway.

"Safe room," he answered, stopping at what appeared to be a linen closet. He pressed a hidden panel, and the back wall slid aside, revealing a steel door with a keypad.

"Whoa," Lily breathed.

“Operator," he reminded her with a slight smirk. "Paranoia comes with the territory."