Harlow
She opened her eyes. “Fine,” she lied. He stared at her as though he didn’t believe her. “I'm okay,” she corrected. “Better.” She rolled her eyes, not sure how many more lies she could tell him before he stopped looking at her that way.
Butcher cleared his throat. “Can we continue?”
Wade leaned back in his chair. “She's ready.”
Butcher looked between them. “You two done?”
“No,” Wade said.
“Yes,” Harlow answered simultaneously.
That earned several laughs, and even Butcher smiled. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.
Harlow straightened. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. Wade's usually a miserable fuck. This is entertaining,” Butcher said.
“Fuck you,” Wade said.
“See?” Butcher said. Harlow bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
These men were strange. They were crude, loud, and dangerous, yet there was something genuine about them that she'd rarely experienced.
They didn't pretend to like one another.
They insulted each other openly. They even argued and cursed at each other.
But she'd seen the way they'd moved together when Frank showed up at the bar.
There was no hesitation and no questions.
One of theirs needed help, and they'd responded.
Harlow had spent her life surrounded by people who smiled while secretly hoping someone else failed.
The Savage Bastards seemed more likely to call each other assholes while helping to hide a body.
She wasn't sure which should concern her more.
Butcher's expression turned serious. “You said the warehouse belonged to Kane Logistics.”
Harlow's amusement disappeared. “Yes.”
“You sure?” he asked.
“I saw the logo on the building,” she insisted.
“Could Frank have been using your father's company without his knowledge?” Butcher asked.
Hope flickered inside her. “Yes.” Wade shifted beside her and Harlow looked at him. He didn't say anything, but she knew that he didn't believe that.
“You don't know my father,” she said.
“Harlow,” Wade breathed.
“He owns dozens of companies. Hundreds of properties. He can't possibly know what happens at every single one,” she insisted.
“She's right,” Butcher said. Harlow glanced toward him gratefully. “It’s possible Kane doesn't know,” he continued. “We don't assume anything until we have proof.”
Wade nodded. “That’s fair.” That should have made her feel better, but it didn't, because the image of the files kept replaying inside her head of the women and girls in the photos.
She remembered their names and prices that were written at the bottom of the pictures.
She hadn't understood what she was seeing at first. She'd been looking for something else entirely.
“I wasn't supposed to find the file,” she whispered.
Wade turned toward her and Butcher leaned forward. “Tell us how you found it.”
Harlow rubbed her palms against her jeans. “I went to Frank's office.”
“When?” Butcher asked.
“About three weeks ago,” she said.
“Why were you there?” he asked.
She hesitated, and Wade noticed. “Harlow?”
“I was looking for my passport,” she admitted.
His expression hardened. “Why did Frank have your passport?”
“He didn't,” she said.
“Then why were you looking for it in his office?” Butcher asked.
“Because my father had it.” Harlow stared down at her hands. “My passport disappeared about two months ago. I asked my father about it, and he said he'd put it somewhere safe.”
Wade's voice turned dangerously quiet. “Safe from who?”
“Me,” she said.
His chair creaked beneath him, and Harlow looked over. His jaw was clenched. “They took your fucking passport?”
“I wasn't supposed to travel,” she said.
“According to who?” Wade growled.
“My father,” she breathed.
“You're a grown woman,” Wade pointed out.
“I know that,” she said.
“Apparently, he didn’t,” Wade growled.
“Wade,” she breathed.
“What?” he spat.
“Getting angry about it now doesn't change anything,” she insisted.
“No, but it makes me feel better,” he grumbled. Despite herself, her lips twitched.
Butcher shook his head. “Let her finish.”
Wade motioned toward her. “Go ahead.”
Harlow took a breath. “I thought Frank might have it. He and my father had started handling most of the wedding arrangements together, and Frank had been keeping documents in his home office.”
“You lived with him?” Wade asked.
“No.” His shoulders relaxed, and she noticed. Interesting. “I was at his house for dinner. He got a business call, and I told him I needed to use the bathroom.”
“But you went into his office,” Wade guessed.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Good girl.” Heat immediately rushed into her cheeks. Wade seemed to realize what he'd said at the same time, and their eyes met. Something hot passed between them. One of the bikers cleared his throat loudly.
Butcher rubbed both hands over his face. “For fuck's sake.” Harlow looked away, and Wade chuckled. She wanted the floor to swallow her. “Continue,” Butcher said.
“Right.” Harlow tucked her hair behind her ear. “I searched his desk. I didn't find my passport, but one of the bottom drawers was locked.”
“So you broke into it?” Wade asked.
“I found the key,” she said.
“Well, that’s a lot less exciting,” Wade mumbled.
She glared at him. “Sorry my story isn’t exciting enough for you.” Harlow turned back toward Butcher before Wade could embarrass her further. “There was a flash drive inside.”
“You took it?” Butcher asked.
“No,” she breathed.
Wade groaned. “What?” she asked.
“You should've taken it,” he insisted.
“I wasn't exactly planning an international espionage operation,” she reminded.
“You were already breaking into his desk,” Wade said.
“I was looking for my passport!” she reminded.
“And found something better,” Wade countered.
“I didn't know what it was at the time,” she said.
Butcher held up a hand. “Wade, let her talk.”
Harlow exhaled. “There were papers too. Shipping manifests, property records, and lists of names.”
“What kind of shipping manifests?” Butcher asked.
“I don't know,” she admitted.
“Can you remember company names?” he asked.
“Kane Logistics was one,” she said. “But I’ve already told you that.”
“What else?” Butcher asked. Harlow closed her eyes. She tried to picture Frank's office with the dark wood desk and leather chair that sat in the corner. She remembered the papers spread across the surface. She'd been terrified he'd return before she could put everything back.
“There was something with Blue Ridge in the name.”
Butcher looked toward one of his men. “Write that down.”
“And another company,” Harlow said. “Something Holdings.”
“Think,” Butcher ordered.
She squeezed her eyes tighter, and then it came to her. “Donnelly Meridian Holdings.” Wade cursed. “What?” she asked.
Butcher exchanged a look with him. “What?”
Wade leaned forward. “We know the name.”
Her stomach dropped. “How?”
“Donnelly Meridian owns property around Louisiana,” Wade said.
“What kind of property?” she asked.
“Warehouses,” Butcher answered.
Cold slid through her. “How do you know that?” Wade didn't answer, and Harlow looked between them. “What aren't you telling me?”
“Harlow—” Wade started.
“No.” She pushed her chair back. “You said you wouldn't lie to me.”
“I haven't lied to you,” he insisted.
“Then tell me.” Wade's eyes held hers. Finally, he looked at Butcher, and something silent passed between them.
Butcher sighed. “About six months ago, we had trouble with a shipment that went missing.”
“What kind of shipment?” she asked.
“Club business,” Butcher said.
“Was it illegal?” she asked.
Butcher smiled without humor. “Probably better if you don't ask.” Harlow nodded. “We traced the truck to a warehouse owned by Donnelly Meridian,” Butcher continued.
“And?” she asked.
“It was empty,” Butcher said.
“Completely empty?” she asked.
“Yes, by the time we got there, it was empty.” Wade leaned his forearms against the table. “But there were signs people had been staying there.”
Harlow stopped breathing. “What kind of signs?” Nobody answered immediately, and her stomach turned. “What kind?”
“Mattresses on the floors,” Wade said quietly. She closed her eyes. God. “And there were locks on the outside of doors.” Harlow covered her mouth. “And blood,” he whispered that last part. Her eyes flew open, and Wade looked like he regretted saying it. “Not much, though,” he quickly added.
“That doesn't make it better,” she insisted.
“I know,” Wade said. She stood.
Her legs felt weak, and Wade immediately rose with her. “I need—”
“Air?” Wade asked. She nodded. “I'll come.”
“No.” He stopped, and Harlow saw the surprise flash across his face. “I need five minutes by myself.”
His expression hardened. “Harlow.”
“I'm not going anywhere,” she promised.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yes,” she breathed.
He clearly didn't like it, but after a few seconds, he nodded. “Five minutes.”
She almost smiled. “Still bossy.”
“Five minutes.” Harlow walked out before he could change his mind.
She didn't go far. The clubhouse porch was empty, and that was enough.
Harlow wrapped her arms around herself and stared across the gravel lot.
Her father couldn't be involved—he just couldn’t be.
Richard Kane was ruthless, controlling, and cold, but trafficking women and girls?
No. She couldn't make herself believe it.
Then again, yesterday morning she'd believed her father would eventually understand that she didn't want Frank.
She'd believed if she begged hard enough, he'd call off the wedding.
Instead, he'd told her to stop behaving like a spoiled child.
Marriage wasn't about love; it was about legacy.
Those had been his exact words, and they made Harlow feel sick.
The clubhouse door opened behind her. “That wasn't five minutes.” She didn't need to turn around. “Go away, Wade.”
“No,” he said.
“Do you ever listen?” she asked.
“Not really.” She heard his boots against the porch, and then he stopped beside her—not touching her, but just there. She appreciated that more than she wanted to.
“What if he knew?” she asked.