Wade #2
Wade immediately stepped between her and Butcher. “Back off.”
Butcher glared at him. “I'm asking questions.”
“And she's fucking scared, and can’t remember what happened,” Wade insisted.
“I can answer,” she almost whispered. Wade turned and found Harlow's eyes were wet from her tears. Fuck.
“Harlow,” he breathed.
“Butcher is right. I need to try to remember,” she said.
“You don't have to remember everything right now,” Wade insisted.
“Yes, I do,” she said. Her chin lifted. “These women don't have time for me to fall apart.” That shut up both him and Butcher.
Harlow looked down at the picture again.
“Sarah was twenty-three.” Wade felt something cold settle in his chest. “She was putting herself through graduate school. She wanted to work in nonprofit management.” Her voice cracked.
“She used to bring me coffee every morning because she said nobody should have to deal with me before caffeine.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and Wade wanted to wipe it away, but he didn't. This wasn't about him and what he wanted. “She didn't quit,” Harlow whispered.
She looked at Butcher. “Where was this taken?” she asked.
“The warehouse,” Butcher said.
Her eyes closed, and Wade cursed under his breath. “When?” she asked.
“Three days ago,” Butcher said.
Her eyes snapped open. “What?”
Wade stared at Butcher. “She's alive?”
“As of three days ago, yes,” Butcher said.
Harlow moved before anyone could stop her. “Then we go get her.”
Butcher shook his head. “No.”
“What? Why not?” she asked.
“We don't know what's inside that warehouse,” Butcher insisted.
“I don't care. She's alive, and we need to go find her,” Harlow said.
“And I'd like to keep her alive,” Butcher said. Harlow stared at him. “If we go in blind, they could move her. Or kill her.”
She flinched, and Wade stepped closer. “Butcher's right.”
Her eyes flashed. “Don't tell me to wait.”
“We need more information before we just go running into danger,” Wade said.
“She has already waited eight months!” Harlow said.
“I know,” Wade said.
“No, you don't,” she spat.
Wade's temper sparked. “You think I don't want to go down there right fucking now?”
“Then let's go!” she shouted.
“And do what?” Wade asked.
“Get her!” Harlow said, as though it would be that easy.
“With how many men inside? How many guns? How many exits? How many women?” Wade asked. Harlow stopped pacing, and Wade stepped closer. “We don't know shit yet.” Her breathing was too fast. “But we’ll find out.”
“How long will that take?” she asked.
“We’ll move as fast as we can,” Butcher insisted.
“That isn't good enough,” Harlow breathed.
“It's what we've got,” Butcher said. She turned away, and Wade rubbed a hand over his beard. He understood because if somebody he cared about was trapped inside that warehouse, he'd already be halfway there. But charging through the front door could get everyone killed—including Sarah.
Ripper looked at Butcher. “We can get eyes on the property tonight.”
Butcher nodded. “You’re just there to observe. No engagement.”
“Got it,” Ripper said.
“I want everyone who goes near that place armed,” Butcher said.
“Obviously,” Ripper said.
Harlow turned around. “I'm coming.”
Three men answered at once. “No.” She stared at them and Wade almost laughed. He knew that it was the wrong time for an outburst just by looking at her. It was definitely the wrong fucking time.
“You said I get to make my own choices,” Harlow insisted.
Wade groaned. “Jesus Christ. Not when the choice is fucking stupid.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So I get to choose as long as you agree with me?” Fuck. She was good.
Butcher looked suspiciously entertained, and Wade pointed at him. “Don't say a fucking word.”
“Didn't say anything,” Butcher insisted.
Harlow crossed her arms over her chest. “I'm coming.”
“No,” Wade breathed again.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because if Frank's people see you, they know we're onto them,” he said. “They’re all looking for you.”
“They already know I'm with you,” she reminded.
“They don't know what you told us, though,” Wade said. That made her pause, and Wade pressed the advantage. “Right now, they think you're a runaway bride hiding with a biker.”
“She’s hiding with a Savage Bastard,” Ripper corrected.
Wade looked at him. “Not helping.” Ripper shrugged, and Wade turned back to Harlow. “If they find out you saw those files, everything changes.”
Her anger faded. “They don't know?”
“Frank might suspect,” Butcher said, stepping closer. “But if he knew for sure, I don't think he would've walked away from the bar last night.”
Harlow paled. “Why not?”
Wade wished Butcher hadn't said it. “Harlow.”
“No. Why wouldn’t he have walked away from the bar last night?” she asked.
Butcher answered. “Because if Frank knew you had information that could bury whatever operation he's running, he wouldn't be trying to bring you home.” Cold moved through Wade. “He'd be trying to shut you up.”
Harlow went completely still, and Wade stepped in front of her. “Look at me.” She didn't. “Harlow.” Her eyes finally lifted, and all he saw was fear—pure fucking fear. Wade hated it. “Nothing's happening to you.”
“You can't promise that,” she whispered.
He leaned closer to her. “Watch me.” Her lips parted.
Wade didn't care that Butcher and Ripper were standing there.
He didn't care that he was making promises he had no business making.
Harlow had spent her entire life surrounded by men who used promises to control her.
Wade would use his to protect her. There was a fucking difference. “You stay with me.”
Her eyes searched his. “Until when?”
The answer came too easily. “Until this is over.”
Something moved across her face. “And then?” Fuck. Wade hadn't thought that far—or maybe he had. Maybe that was why the question scared the shit out of him.
“Then you decide what you want to do,” he said.
She stared at him. “You really mean that?”
“Yeah,” he breathed.
“What if I decide I want to leave?” she asked.
His gut tightened. “Then you leave.” The words tasted like shit, but he said them anyway.
“And if I decide I want to stay?” she asked.
Wade forgot Butcher existed, and Ripper too. He forgot about the warehouse. For one dangerous second, there was only Harlow. “Then you stay.” Her eyes softened.
Behind them, Butcher muttered, “Jesus fucking Christ.” Wade flipped him off without looking, and Harlow laughed. He'd take that sound over her tears any fucking day.
Butcher's phone rang, and he checked the screen. All humor disappeared from his face. “Yeah?” He listened, and Wade watched his expression change.
“What is it?” Wade asked.
Butcher held up a finger and then turned away. “Where?” There was another pause. “When?” Wade felt as though he was holding his breath, waiting for Butcher to say something else. “Don't touch anything. We're coming.” He hung up.
Wade's instincts immediately went on alert. “What happened?”
Butcher looked at Harlow and then Wade. “We found her car.”
Harlow frowned. “My car?”
“Yes, the one you drove away from the wedding,” Butcher said.
“Where was it?” Harlow asked.
“About thirty miles from Wade's bar,” Butcher said.
Her brows pulled together. “That doesn't make sense.” Wade agreed because she had arrived at the bar in that car, or at least he'd assumed she had.
“Where'd you leave it?” Wade asked her.
“In the parking lot beside the bar,” Harlow said. Fuck.
Butcher's face hardened. “It’s not there anymore.”
Harlow looked frightened. “Who moved it?”
“Don't know,” Butcher said.
Wade's phone buzzed, and a photograph came through from one of the brothers. He opened it. Harlow's car sat on the shoulder of an empty road with the driver's door open. Wade zoomed in and noticed that something white was lying across the front seat.
“What the fuck?”
Harlow moved beside him. “What?” He tried to angle the phone away, but it was too late because she already saw it.
Her face drained of color. “My dress.” Wade looked closer.
The wedding dress they'd thrown into a trash bag at the bar was spread across the driver's seat.
Someone had taken it from the dumpster. Someone had moved her car, and someone wanted Harlow to know they'd done it.
Harlow's fingers wrapped around his arm. “Wade.” He looked down at her. “What does that mean?” Wade knew exactly what it meant. Frank wasn't searching anymore. He knew where she was, and he wanted her scared.
Wade slid the phone into his pocket. His arm went around Harlow before he thought better of it, and she came willingly. Her body pressed against his as his hand settled against the back of her head. For once, he didn't worry about whether he was getting too close, because he didn't give a fuck.
“Listen to me,” he breathed. She looked up at him. “He doesn't get you.”
Her fingers tightened in his shirt. “You don't know that.”
“Yes, I fucking do,” he said.
“How?” she asked. Wade looked at Butcher. His Prez already understood, and so did Ripper. The game had changed.
Wade looked back at Harlow. “Because he just threatened something under the Savage Bastards' protection.”
Her eyes widened. “Me?”
Wade's arm tightened around her. “Yeah, runaway bride.” This time, she didn't complain about the nickname. Wade looked toward Butcher. “When do we move?”
“Tonight,” Butcher said.
Harlow pulled back enough to look between them. “You said we needed information.”
“We did,” Butcher said.
“And now?” she asked.
Butcher's expression went cold. “Now we get it.” Wade looked down at Harlow.
Frank wanted to scare her, and that was fine by him.
Let the bastard play his games. Let him move cars and dig wedding dresses out of dumpsters.
Let him send men to watch Wade's bar, because Frank Donnelly still didn't understand the mistake he'd made.
Harlow wasn't standing alone anymore. She had Wade, she had Butcher, and she had every Savage Bastard willing to ride.
Wade was done waiting for Frank to make the next move. Tonight, they were going hunting.