Wade #2
Wade saw her fingers tighten around the edge of the table. “Harlow,” he said quietly. She looked at him, and he didn’t know why she seemed to find something reassuring in his face, but some of the tension left her shoulders.
“My father arranged the marriage,” she said. “He called it a merger.”
Wade felt his jaw clench. “A merger?” he repeated.
“Between families. Businesses. Connections. Whatever the hell rich men call selling their daughters these days,” Harlow spat.
Butcher pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “What does Frank get for marrying you?” he asked.
“You mean besides me?” she teased, batting her eyelashes at him. “He gets my father’s connections,” Harlow said.
“And what does your father get in return?” Butcher asked.
Harlow hesitated. “I don’t know everything,” she insisted.
“But you know something,” Wade said.
She looked at him again and nodded. “Yes.”
“Okay, then start with what you know,” Butcher ordered.
“I heard them arguing a few weeks ago. Frank told my father that once they were family, he’d have access to routes he couldn’t get on his own.” Butcher and Wade exchanged a look. Routes—that word could mean a hundred things, most of them bad.
“What kind of routes?” Butcher asked.
“I don’t know,” Harlow said.
“Drugs?” Wade asked.
“I don’t know,” Harlow insisted.
“Weapons?” Butcher asked.
“I said I don’t know. My father never really discussed his business with me,” she said.
“Do you think your father is moving women?” Wade asked. Harlow went pale, and Wade wished he hadn’t asked her that, but the reaction told him something.
“You heard something about women, haven’t you?” Butcher asked. She shook her head quickly, and Wade knew that she was hiding something.
“Harlow, if you know something, we might be able to help,” Wade said.
“I don’t know what my father does in his business,” she insisted.
“But you heard something, haven’t you?” Butcher asked.
Her eyes filled with tears. Fuck. Wade crouched beside her chair before he thought better of it.
“Hey.” She looked at him. “You don't have to tell us everything tonight.” Butcher opened his mouth, and Wade shot him a look and shook his head.
Butcher apparently understood because he leaned back and kept quiet.
Harlow swallowed hard. “There were names.”
“What names?” Wade asked.
“Women. Girls, maybe. I found a file in Frank’s office a few weeks ago,” she admitted.
Wade’s blood went cold. “What was in it?”
“Pictures, names, dates.” Her voice cracked. “Some of them had prices beside them.” Nobody in the bar made a sound. Wade felt something inside him shift. This had just become a whole different fucking problem.
“Does Frank know you saw it?” Butcher asked.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Wade stood. “You ran because of the file?”
“I was already planning to run,” she admitted.
“Because he hit you?” Wade asked.
Her gaze dropped to her wrist. “That was part of it.” Wade had to take a slow breath. He wanted Frank back outside, right fucking now. He wanted five minutes alone with the bastard.
Butcher stood and motioned Wade toward the bar. “Need a word.” Wade followed him reluctantly. They stopped far enough away that Harlow couldn’t hear them.
Butcher kept his voice low. “She can't stay here.”
Wade looked at him. “Come again?”
“You heard me,” Butcher said.
“She has nowhere else to go,” Wade said.
“And now we know why,” Butcher breathed.
“That changes nothing,” Wade said.
“It changes fucking everything. If Donnelly is moving women and Kane is involved, this shit is bigger than some asshole chasing his runaway bride,” Butcher said.
“I know,” Wade admitted.
“Do you?” Butcher asked. Wade's expression hardened, and Butcher stepped closer. “You’ve known her for thirty fucking minutes.”
“So?” Wade asked.
“So I know that look,” Butcher said.
“What look?” Wade questioned.
“The one you have right now,” Butcher said. Wade glanced toward Harlow. She was sitting at the table, staring down at the burger she still hadn’t touched. She was tiny, wet, bruised, and alone. His chest tightened. Fuck.
Butcher sighed. “There it is again.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Wade grumbled.
“She can’t stay at the bar,” Butcher insisted.
“I agree.” That clearly surprised Butcher.
“Good,” Butcher said.
“She’s coming home with me,” Wade said. Butcher stared at him, and then he laughed, but Wade didn't.
Butcher's laughter died. “You're serious.”
“Dead serious,” Wade breathed.
“Wade—” Butcher started.
“She needs somewhere safe to stay until she can figure things out,” Wade said.
“We have safehouses,” Butcher reminded.
“I know,” Wade said.
“Then put her in one,” Butcher said.
“No,” Wade breathed.
“Why the fuck not?” Because Wade didn't trust anyone else with her. The thought came fast enough to piss him off. He barely trusted himself with the woman, but he damn sure wasn't handing her off to someone else tonight.
“She stays with me.” Butcher studied him for several long seconds, and then he shook his head.
“You are so fucked,” Butcher grumbled.
“Probably,” Wade said with a shrug.
“And you don't even know it yet.” Wade looked back toward Harlow. She chose that moment to finally take a bite of the burger. Her eyes lifted and found his. She held his gaze, and something settled deep in Wade's gut—something possessive and dangerous.
Something he had absolutely no business feeling for a woman whose last name he'd learned less than ten minutes ago. But Butcher was wrong about one thing. Wade knew exactly how fucked he was. He just didn't give a damn.