Harlow #3
“He fucking knew,” she spat. The truth hit her all at once.
Richard hadn't been ignorant. He hadn't been fooled.
He wasn't an innocent businessman whose company Frank had secretly used.
Her father knew. Maybe he hadn't known everything.
Maybe there was still some explanation, but deep down, Harlow understood that there wasn't.
Her knees gave out, and Wade caught her before she hit the floor. This time, she didn't fight him. She wrapped both arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest. Wade held her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.
One hand cradled the back of her head. “I've got you.”
Harlow squeezed her eyes shut. “I hate him.” Wade said nothing. “I hate my own father.”
His arms tightened. “You're allowed to hate him.” A sob escaped her, and she hated it. She hated crying in front of everyone, but Wade didn't tell her to stop this time. He just held her. Eventually, the tears slowed, and embarrassment replaced them.
Harlow pulled away. “Sorry.”
Wade frowned. “For what?”
“For crying,” she said.
He wiped beneath her eye with his thumb. “Don't apologize for shit you don't owe anyone an apology for.” She nodded.
Butcher was still studying the manifest. “We have a bigger problem.”
Wade looked at him. “Great, what now?”
Butcher tapped the paper. “This shipment leaves tomorrow night.”
Harlow's heart stopped. “What shipment?”
“Whatever they're moving through that warehouse,” Butcher said.
“People,” she whispered.
Butcher nodded grimly. “Probably.”
“Then you have to go in before tomorrow,” she said.
“Yeah, we do,” Butcher agreed.
Wade turned toward Butcher. “How many brothers will we need?”
“All of them,” Butcher said.
Harlow looked between them. “What does that mean?”
Wade's hand settled against her back. “It means we're done watching.”
“You're going in.” Fear seeped into her as she said those words because she already knew the answer.
“Yeah,” Wade said.
“When will you leave?” she asked.
Butcher answered. “Tomorrow.”
Harlow looked at Wade. “You're not leaving me here.”
“Here we fucking go again,” he said.
“I'm serious,” she said.
“So am I,” he countered.
“I can help,” Harlow insisted. “I know those companies. And I know Sarah. I also might be able to recognize other people.” She hoped that those were all good enough reasons for them to allow her to tag along.
“No,” he breathed.
Harlow glared at him. “Could you expand your vocabulary?”
“Nope.” She threw her hands up, and Butcher laughed.
Harlow pointed at him. “This isn't funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” Butcher said.
Wade stepped closer. “You're staying here.”
“I don't want to,” she demanded.
“Don't care,” he said.
“You promised I get choices,” she reminded.
“Yep, I did,” he admitted.
“This is my choice,” she insisted.
“No. This is you trying to get yourself shot, or worse,” Wade said.
“I wouldn't go inside. I could stay in a vehicle with someone guarding me,” she offered. She felt as though she was negotiating with a terrorist. Wade kept his stubborn mask in place, and she knew that she was already losing the argument.
“No,” he simply said with no other explanation.
“Wade!” she shouted.
He leaned down until his face was inches from hers. “Harlow.”
She wanted to scream. Instead, she stared into his dark eyes. “Sarah was my friend.”
His expression softened. “I know.”
“If something happens and I could've helped—” she started.
“You already helped,” he insisted.
“Not enough,” she said.
“You gave us the warehouse,” he reminded.
“Frank's file told you where the warehouse is,” she said.
Wade's voice softened. “You've done enough.”
Tears burned again. “She's still in there.”
“I know,” he whispered.
“Bring her back.” Three words; that was all Harlow had left in her.
Wade went still. Then his hand slid around the back of her neck. His forehead touched hers. “I'll do everything I can.”
“That's not a promise,” she insisted.
“No, but I'm not gonna lie to you and promise you something that I might not be able to deliver,” he said. She closed her eyes. She hated that she respected him for it.
“Okay.” He stayed there with her, his forehead against hers, breathing the same air as her.
He was so fucking close that when Harlow opened her eyes, she saw that Wade was watching her.
She didn't think. She didn't question. She didn't wonder whether she was making a mistake.
She simply leaned forward and kissed him.
Wade froze, and for one horrible second, Harlow thought he was going to pull away.
Then his hand tightened around the back of her neck, and he kissed her back.
The kiss was hard and deep enough to steal her breath.
His beard scratched against her skin. His mouth was warm and demanding and exactly what she'd wondered it would be like.
Then he stopped and stepped back from her.
Harlow stared at him. His breathing was rough, but so was hers.
“I told you,” he said.
She blinked. “What did you tell me?”
“That when I kissed you, you wouldn't wonder if I meant it.”
Harlow's heart pounded. “You didn't kiss me.” His eyebrows rose. “I kissed you.”
A slow smile spread across Wade's face. “Technicality.”
“You kissed me back,” she pointed out.
“Fuck yeah, I did.” She laughed, and Wade's smile disappeared. His thumb brushed across her lower lip.
“Do that again when this is over.”
Her pulse jumped. “Do what? Kiss you?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“What if I don't want to wait?”
His eyes darkened. “Then you're gonna make tomorrow a hell of a lot harder for me.”
Harlow smiled. “Good.”
Wade groaned. “Woman.” For the first time since she'd learned Sarah was alive, something other than fear filled her chest. Hope—small and fragile, but still there.
Harlow looked at Butcher. “Bring those women home.”
The humor left his face, and he nodded. “That's the plan.”
Harlow glanced around the clubhouse and at the men preparing to risk their lives for women they didn't know. Then she looked at Wade. He'd walked into her life less than two days ago. Or maybe she'd walked into his. Either way, everything had changed.
Her father had spent years teaching her that power came from money.
Frank believed it came from fear. But standing inside the Savage Bastards' clubhouse, Harlow was beginning to understand something neither man had ever learned.
Sometimes power came from people willing to stand beside you when they had absolutely nothing to gain.
Tomorrow, the Savage Bastards were going after Sarah.
And after that? Harlow was going after her father.