Wade #4
Butcher’s voice carried from farther down the hallway. “I heard that.” Wade smiled as Harlow laughed quietly. Then she surprised him by reaching for his hand. Wade went completely still as her fingers slipped between his. Her hand was small, warm, and slightly trembling.
She didn't look at him. “Just until we get inside.”
Wade stared down at their joined hands, and something primitive settled inside his chest. “Sure.” He was lying, because the second she touched him, Wade knew he wasn't going to want to let go of her.
They walked into church together, and every man at the table noticed their joined hands.
Wade ignored them—mostly. Butcher sat at the head of the table.
Ripper took his usual chair, and the others watched Harlow with varying degrees of curiosity.
Wade pulled out the chair beside his, and Harlow sat.
Only then did she release his hand, and he immediately missed her touch. Fuck his life.
Butcher cleared his throat. “Let's get started.” The room quieted. “Harlow, Wade told us some of what you found.”
Her gaze snapped toward Wade. “Not everything,” Wade said. “Just enough.”
She nodded, and Butcher leaned forward. “We need you to tell us anything you remember about Frank Donnelly's files.”
Harlow inhaled slowly. “There were photographs.”
“What kind?” Butcher asked.
“They were of women,” she breathed.
“How many women?” Butcher questioned.
“I don't know. A lot,” she said.
“Were they all adults?” he asked.
She hesitated, and Wade's stomach dropped. “Harlow?” he breathed.
“Not all of them,” she admitted. The room changed, and every Savage Bastard went still. Wade felt rage settle cold in his gut.
Butcher's voice hardened. “How young were they?”
“I don't know.” Harlow swallowed. “One looked maybe sixteen.”
“Fuck,” Ripper muttered. Wade's hands curled into fists beneath the table. Frank Donnelly was already a dead man, but the bastard just didn't know it yet.
“Could you tell where the photos were taken?” Butcher asked.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I could tell where a few of the photos were taken.”
“Where?” he asked.
“I didn't recognize most of them,” she admitted.
“Anything you did recognize?” he asked.
Harlow closed her eyes, and Wade watched her struggle to remember. Then suddenly, her eyes opened. “There was one that looked familiar. It was at a warehouse that my father owns.”
Butcher leaned forward. “Where is the warehouse?”
“Just outside of town,” she said.
Wade's pulse kicked. “What warehouse is it?” he asked. “There are three out there.”
Harlow looked at him. “I don't know the address.”
“Anything else you can tell us about the warehouse would be helpful, Harlow,” Butcher said.
“There was a company name on the side of the building,” she said.
“What name?” he asked.
She frowned. “Kane Logistics.” Wade looked at Butcher, and he looked right back. Harlow's father owned that building, which meant that he was probably involved in trafficking women and young girls. Fuck.
Harlow seemed to realize the implication at the same time. “No.” Wade turned toward her. “My father wouldn't—” She stopped, because even she didn't believe the words.
“Harlow,” Wade said carefully.
“No.” She stood so quickly the chair scraped backward. “My father is controlling. He's an asshole. He cares more about money than anything else, but he wouldn't sell women.” Nobody answered, and that was the problem. Harlow looked around the table. “You don't know him.”
Wade stood, and she backed away from him. “I need air.”
He reached for her. “Harlow—” he started.
“I said I need air,” she insisted. Wade let her go, and it took about three seconds before he followed her. He found her outside behind the clubhouse with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She didn't turn around. “Go away.”
“No,” he breathed.
“Wade,” she said.
“Not happening,” he insisted. “I’m not leaving you alone out here.”
“My father can't be involved in this,” she said. Wade didn't say anything because he had no idea what to say. She spun around. “Say something,” she insisted.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked.
“That I'm right,” she said.
“I won't lie to you,” he said. Pain crossed her face, and Wade hated that he put it there.
“My entire life,” she whispered, “he told me everything he did was for our family.”
“Maybe he believed that,” Wade offered.
“By selling women?” she asked.
“We don't know that he's involved yet,” Wade insisted.
“But you think he is.” Wade hesitated, and that was enough. Harlow looked away. “God.” She covered her mouth, hiding the sob that escaped her chest. Wade stepped closer, and she didn't retreat. “My mother died when I was twelve.” He stayed quiet. “My father was all I had.”
“Harlow,” Wade breathed.
“He wasn't warm. He wasn't affectionate. But he took care of me.” Her voice cracked. “He made sure I had everything that I needed.”
“Except a choice,” he reminded. She flinched, and Wade regretted the words immediately. “Shit. I shouldn't have—”
“No.” She wiped at her cheek. “You're right.” Fuck, she was crying again, and Wade hated her tears, mostly because they made him want to fix shit that couldn't be fixed.
One slipped down her cheek. He reached up before thinking better of it and wiped it away with his thumb, and Harlow froze—so did Wade.
Her skin was soft. Her blue eyes lifted to his and neither moved.
“Wade.” His name sounded different coming from her like that—softer.
He should have stepped back, but he didn't. His hand remained against her cheek, and Harlow slightly leaned into it.
That tiny movement nearly destroyed every good intention he had.
His eyes dropped to her mouth, and fuck, she noticed.
Her lips parted as Wade's thumb traced her cheek. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted it badly enough that his entire body tightened, but she had run from one man trying to control her less than twenty-four hours ago. She was scared, vulnerable, and dependent on him for protection. There was no fucking way that he’d take advantage of her.
Wade dropped his hand, and Harlow blinked up at him. “We should go back inside.”
Something that looked suspiciously like disappointment crossed her face. “Right.” She turned as Wade caught her hand. Harlow looked back at him, and he didn't know why he'd done it. So he went with the truth.
“You're not him.” Her brows pulled together. “Your father, I mean.” She stared at him. “Whatever we find, whatever he did or didn't do, none of it belongs to you.” Her eyes filled again, and Wade groaned. “Goddammit.”
A watery laugh escaped her. “Sorry.”
“Stop crying,” he grumbled.
“Stop saying nice things,” she countered.
“I said one nice thing,” he said.
“That's apparently all it takes,” she warned.
Wade shook his head. “You're a pain in my ass.”
“You've known me for one day,” she reminded.
“Longest fucking day of my life,” he teased. She smiled, and Wade squeezed her hand. “Come on.” They walked back toward the clubhouse, and halfway there, Harlow stopped. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“If my father is involved—” She swallowed. “I want to know.”
Wade studied her. “Even if it's bad?”
“Especially if it's bad,” she said.
He nodded. “Then we'll find out.”
“We?” she asked. There was that word again. Wade should've corrected himself; instead, he tightened his hand around hers.
“Yeah, runaway bride. We.”
She rolled her eyes. “I still hate that nickname.”
“No, you don't,” he insisted.
“I absolutely do,” she countered.
“Keep telling yourself that.” They reached the clubhouse door, and Wade opened it. Harlow started inside, but he stopped her. “One more thing.”
“What?” she asked.
“If Kane's involved, you're not going back to him,” he said.
Her expression hardened instantly. “You said nobody gets to decide for me.”
Fuck. She had him there. Wade sighed. “Fine.”
“Fine?” she asked.
“You decide whether you go back,” he agreed.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“But if you decide that you’re going back, then I'm kidnapping you,” Wade insisted.
Harlow stared at him and then laughed. “You can't kidnap me.”
“Sure I can,” he said.
“That's illegal,” she reminded.
Wade looked down at the Savage Bastards patch on his cut and then back at her.
“You really haven't figured us out yet, have you?” Her laughter followed him inside, and Wade realized something as he listened to it.
Frank had scared Harlow into his bar, and her father might have spent her entire life controlling her, but neither of those bastards understood what they'd done.
They'd pushed her straight into the Savage Bastards, and straight to Wade, and whatever happened next, Wade was damn sure of one thing—nobody was dragging Harlow Kane anywhere ever again.