Page 26 of Wade’s Wrath

“They found the car that was watching the bar,” he said, giving her the truth.

“And?” she asked.

“It's two miles away from here,” he said.

Her face drained of color, and Wade crossed the kitchen. “Hey.”

“They found me,” she whispered.

“We don't know that,” he insisted.

She stood abruptly. “I brought them here.”

“You didn't bring shit here,” he growled.

“They followed me,” she insisted.

“Then that's their mistake,” he said.

“You don't understand,” she started.

He was getting real fucking tired of those words. Wade stepped closer. “Then make me understand.”

“They don't stop until they get what they want,” she said.

“Neither do I,” he admitted.

“This isn't a bar fight,” she said.

“Never said it was,” he agreed.

“They'll hurt you,” she insisted. He saw the worry in her eyes, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Wade stared down at her. “Harlow, I'm a Savage Bastard.” She blinked at him, and he leaned slightly closer. “You think the name came from our fucking manners?” For a second, she just stared at him, and then a laugh escaped her. Wade smiled. “Go shower.”

“Bossy,” she grumbled.

“Move,” he ordered. “You have ten minutes to be ready.”

She started toward the hallway before stopping. “Wade?”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Be careful.” Two simple words that were nothing special, except nobody told Wade to be careful. People usually assumed he didn't need it.

His chest tightened, and he nodded. “Always am.” She disappeared down the hall, and Wade waited until he heard the bedroom door close. Then his smile vanished. He grabbed his gun from the kitchen counter and checked the magazine. Frank had sent somebody to find Harlow. Maybe he had just ordered his men to watch her, or maybe he sent them for something worse, but it didn't matter. The bastard had come too close to Wade's home and was too close to Harlow, and that changed things.

Wade slid the gun into the holster at his back and looked toward the hallway. Butcher thought they were bringing Harlow to the clubhouse so the club could figure out what to do next, but Wade already knew what came next. They were going to find Frank Donnelly and find out exactly what was in those files, and if Frank really was buying and selling women, Wade would make damn sure Harlow never had to run from the son of a bitch again because Frank had made one catastrophic mistake. He'd scared a woman straight into Wade's path, and Wade had never been very good at giving back something he'd decided that he wanted to keep.

Wade hated shopping, but he had promised Harlow some new clothes so she didn’t have to wear his T-shirts anymore—not that he minded. He hated crowded stores, hated fluorescent lights, hated standing around while people debated between two shirts that looked exactly the fucking same. But mostly, he hated the fact that Harlow had been inside the store for almost twenty minutes while he stood outside his truck watching every vehicle that entered the parking lot. She wasn’t alone. Butcher had sent Ripper with them, and the brother was currently inside pretending to shop while keeping an eye on her. Wade still didn’t like it.

He checked his phone, and there were no new messages from Butcher. “Fuck this.” He locked the truck and headed toward the store. The automatic doors slid open and cold air blasted him in the face. Wade immediately spotted Ripper leaning against a display near the front. “Where is she?”

Ripper smirked. “Missed her?”

“Fuck off,” Wade growled.

Ripper sighed. “She’s in the dressing room.”